


Welcome to the Family

by ViiA01



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Green Lantern - All Media Types
Genre: Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Batfamily (DCU) Shenanigans, Cassandra Cain is Black Bat, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Duke Thomas is Signal, Family Fluff, Jason Todd is Red Hood, M/M, Stephanie Brown is Batgirl, Stupidity, Tim Drake is Red Robin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-27 15:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 67,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21394627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViiA01/pseuds/ViiA01
Summary: Bruce’s children want to meet the man that their father deemed worthy of a smile. So they do, in the only way they know how. By breaking into people's houses and lurking in dark places.Bruce just wants his children to stop stalking Earth’s Green Lantern, if only because they're ruining his plans.And Hal?Well, Hal is convinced that Bruce has concocted a plot to get around his ‘no killing’ rule, by having his children stalk him until his heart gives out from the stress.
Relationships: Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 494
Kudos: 1844





	1. Robin

**Author's Note:**

> dis some garbage, you can all blame FabulaRasa and Geoff Johns for making me a slut for batlantern
> 
> do with it, what you will

Hal shouldered open the door to his apartment. It was weird, having an apartment again after spending most of his time in space or in his quarters on Oa, but Barry hadn’t stopped whining until Hal had agreed to sign a lease.

Sighing, Hal shuffled around the boxes of new furniture he still hadn’t gotten around to making and stopped dead at the sight of a small, dark haired child in a familiar red and green uniform standing on his kitchen counter, examining his bare cupboards.

Robin, _apparently_, turned around and planted his hands on his hips. “Your lack of food and choice of décor is pathetic.” He announced seriously.

Hal was aware he was gaping, but what else was he supposed to do? He had just been insulted by a kid in a bird costume.

He glanced down at his key-chain and then back at the still open door. 04. This was his apartment, but it didn’t explain what Robin, _of Batman and Robin fame_, was doing in it.

“What are you doing in my house?” Hal blurted out dumbly.

Robin closed the cupboards with a resounding bang, moving onto the next set. “I am investigating you.” He said, as if it was obvious. “I need to ensure that my father’s new ‘Justice League’ is up to standard.” He sneered.

Hal pressed his lips together and closed the door. “…Okay?” He said, processing the odd statement. “First. Get off the kitchen counter. Second. Does Bats know you’re here?” He asked, setting the groceries on the island as he watched the child pick through his empty cupboards.

“I am perfectly capable of handling myself, Lantern. You on the other hand, appear to be incapable of that.” Robin said imperiously, in that way that only kids really could. “You have one cup and two knives, and no forks.”

“They’re in another box.” Hal said, moving around to help the young boy off the counter top. “Now get down from there before you fall.”

He was still unclear why Robin was in his apartment or what secrets his cupboards could contain, but he wasn’t going to take the chance of the kid braining himself.

Spooky would get Diana to murder him.

Robin ignored him, stepping over the fancy glass stove top that had had Barry interested in the listing in the first place. “You signed the lease for this residence nine days ago.” He rattled off. “You should be unpacked by now.”

Hal sighed. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you know that.” He muttered. “Off. The Counter.” He repeated, looking at the child sternly.

“My investigation is not done-”

Hal closed the cupboard in the boy’s face. “Get off the counter or I will get you down myself.” He warned.

Robin spun around and folded his arms, glowering darkly.

Hal wasn’t impressed. He had stared down Sinestro and seen Kilowog naked. A kid in a bird costume was hardly intimidating after that. “One.” He counted, and god, he sounded just like his father when he said that. “Two-”

Robin leapt off the counter, landing on the tiled kitchen floor with barely a sound. There was a pout playing around his chubby cheeks. “My investigation of you is not finished, Lantern.” He told Hal sternly, jabbing a finger at him. “Batman’s files on you are ever so slightly different from the other members of the Justice League, which leads me to believe you are a mole or government plant.”

Hal blanched. Good lord, what on Earth had Spooky been teaching this child? A government plant?

“I did not expect you to be home for some time. I thought you would stay longer to flirt with the cashier.” Robin continued, folding his arms. “However, your being here does suit my purposes in finding out what makes you interesting to Batman.”

Hal blinked and reached for the groceries. Apparently being batshit insane was something Bruce also taught his little sidekicks. “Pretty sure it’s just because we don’t get on, little bit.” He said instead, pulling out the milk. “Speaking of, does he know you’re here and not in Gotham?”

“I do not need a babysitter, Lantern. _As I said_, I am more than capable of looking after myself.” Robin said imperiously, peering over the counter at the groceries Hal was unloading.

“So, he doesn’t.” Hal nodded, checking the labels on the spices he had bought, hoping he had remembered to get the ones he needed to make stir fry. “Okay well, I’m going to have to call him and- Robin?”

Hal looked around but the boy had already vanished from the lounge and kitchen.

He put the milk in the fridge and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number he had never used before as he walked through the lounge and kitchen quickly. You never knew, Bruce was always good at squeezing into places he shouldn’t fit.

It rang once. “What.” Bruce growled at him darkly.

“Missing something, Spooky?”

“This line is for emergencies only.” Bruce snarled, even more vicious than he normally was.

“Well that’s just rude.” Hal said, pushing open the door to the guest bedroom and scanning it quickly. Aside from the random chair Ollie had given him, it was empty.

“Lantern-”

“Robin.” Hal said, doing his best to keep his voice even as he checked the bathroom and saw that the kid had been at his toiletries, leaving the cupboard doors wide open, and the first aid kit scattered all over the floor. “He’s in my apartment. And making a mess of it too.”

Silence. “He’s with you?” Bruce asked finally and Hal wondered if the relief he heard was imagined or not.

Hal ducked out of the bathroom and opened the door to his bedroom.

Robin had been in here too. Hal had only put away half his clothes before he’d gotten hungry and given up and Robin had apparently gone through the half empty suitcase, because there were shirts and pants all over the floor, rumpled out of the neat folding Hal had done.

“Yes. And he has the same sense of privacy as you do.” Hal growled, closing the door his bedroom and walking down to the door of the tiny office. “That is, none at all.” He said, opening the door and finding Robin on his knees in the middle of the boxes Hal had left in there.

Robin was digging around in one of the boxes Hal had labelled with Carol’s chicken scratch, a familiar blue cap abandoned by his knees. “Is that Batman?” Robin asked, pulling out the dress blues Hal hadn’t worn in years and shaking them out.

Hal crossed the room in two strides and took them off the sidekick, putting them on the desk instead. “Yes, it is. And he says, stop ruining Hal’s things.”

“He does not.” Robin sassed, already back rustling around in the box. “He doesn’t talk like that.” He said, discarding a few worn paperbacks, sending them sliding across the carpet.

“Yes, he does.” Hal retorted absently, crouching down to pick up his old Air Force cap and the engineering degree Robin had abandoned on the floor. He put them on the desk too.

“Lantern, give the phone to him.” Bruce said tiredly.

“There is a suspicious gap in Batman’s records of you, one that he saw fit to lock behind a separate security system.” Robin told Hal seriously, digging through the box with a single minded intensity that might have been impressive if it wasn’t directed at Hal’s life. “And my attempts to hack the file has thus far been unsuccessful-”

Hal paused, disliking where this conversation was going. It was annoying, but he had come to terms with the fact that Bruce probably knew more about Hal’s life than he had any right to.

That didn’t mean he wanted to rehash it with a child.

He had put this box in this tiny, dinky little room with a window that faced a brick wall for a reason.

On the other end of the line, he heard Bruce inhale sharply. “Lantern, give the phone to him _now_.” He snapped, more Batman than Bruce.

Hal handed the phone to the young sidekick, who had found the blue velvet box that held gold medal denoting Hal’s service to his country as a prisoner of war.

Robin tucked the phone against his ear, opening the box roughly. “Batman, I am investigating Green Lantern. There is no cause for…”

Hal watched, a pit in his stomach, as Robin went still. He could hear Bruce on the other end of the phone. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, only the tone of his voice.

Robin seemed to settle lower against the ground as he examined the medal inside. “I-” He started before falling silent once more. Finally, his head dropped, and he glanced at Hal for a brief moment before looking away. “Yes. I understand.”

Bruce said something else.

“Yes father.” Robin said stiffly, voice hushed.

_Father?_ God this was Bruce’s _kid_? No wonder he thought breaking into someone’s house and going through their clothes was normal.

Poor kid never had a chance.

Hal held a hand out for the phone and Robin put it in his hand carefully. “Spooky, talk to me.” He said.

“Hal, I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine.” Hal interrupted, and he meant it. He hated hearing apologies when it came to what had happened to him.

Every time someone found out, it was sorry, sorry, sorry. And after that, they crept around him like they expected him to sit in his house and cry while drinking alcohol or be a bitter man who yelled and broke things.

He had worked with Dinah and Barry, and while he would never be over his time in that horrible, underground cell, he had done _enough_ to ensure it didn’t control his life. “He didn’t know.”

“I’ll be by in half an hour to collect him.” Bruce said shortly. “He _will_ be apologizing to you.”

Hal rolled his eyes as Bruce hung up on him without saying goodbye. He put his phone back into his pocket and looked at Robin carefully. He wondered if the child was actually as sorry as he looked, or if he was only cowed because he had been scolded by his father.

Robin was still looking at the gold medal in the plush box. Finally, he closed it carefully and gave it back to Hal.

The office was quiet as Hal shoved the box into a random drawer on his desk.

“I apologise, Lantern.” Robin said, just as stiff as he had been on the phone with his father.

“Mm.” Hal stood, wincing as his knees cracked. “I know you want to investigate the Justice League, make sure we’re up to snuff, but sometimes, things are hidden away for a reason.”

Robin stood up, closing the box with a few deft movements. “You should not hide this.” He insisted. “It’s not something to be ashamed of.”

Hal ushered him out of the room. “That’s not really up to you.” He said firmly, ending the conversation as he steered Robin back into the living room. “Now, Bats will be around in half an hour and I was just about to make lunch. Are you hungry?”

* * *

Robin didn’t like peanut butter. Something about preservatives. He also lectured Hal about the sliced ham he had bought, and how consuming meat regularly only fed into the mistreatment and exploitation of animals.

He did, however, begrudgingly accept the raspberry jam Hal offered instead.

Hal had looked up Bruce Wayne after the debacle in Metropolis with Darkseid’s little soldiers, and wouldn’t you know it, Spooky was loaded. So, he half expected his miniature protegee to demand to have the crusts cut off his bread, but Robin just took small, careful bites without complaint.

“This bread is awful.”

Well.

Almost no complaints.

“It’s the only bread I have.” Hal said, spreading his hands over the mess from their lunch.

“It’s too soft and processed.” Robin told Hal, flopping the sandwich around for emphasis, obviously unimpressed. “However, this jam is satisfactory. I will have Pennyworth contact you for the recipe.”

Hal raised an eyebrow. “It’s from a jar.” He joked.

“Obviously.” Robin said indulgently, as if Hal was an idiot.

“No, I mean it’s just from the store.” Hal explained, spinning the jar around to show Robin the label. “It’s nothing special.”

Robin squinted, an unhappy slant to his mouth. “Modern day supermarkets are nothing but sanctioned cartels.” He told Hal grumpily. “They are too large and because of that, they can offer a pittance for a farmer’s hard work. By doing so, they only force more farmers out of the industry and increase our reliance on imported goods.”

Hal raised an eyebrow at the rather astute observation. “How old are you?” He asked curiously, pulling a piece of crust off and popping it into his mouth.

“I am twelve. I will be thirteen soon.” Robin said, and Hal didn’t miss the way he puffed out his chest a little bit.

Apparently, _that_ was universal, crazy dad or not.

They lapsed into silence. Robin was still eating his sandwich with the same single minded intensity he had shown to his whirlwind investigation of Hal’s apartment. “I don’t understand.” Robin said finally, turning his plate around with one hand.

Hal knocked the crumbs off his hand. “Understand what?”

Robin gave him a look as if it should be obvious.

Nothing was ever obvious when it came to Spooky, and Hal supposed that worked for his crazy children too.

“He smiled at you.” Robin said, as if that explained everything.

It did not.

Because humans smiled and Hal wasn’t sure why that was such a strange thing. Or why it warranted breaking into his apartment and traipsing all over his kitchen counters.

“… Okay?”

Robin squinted at him, chin jutting out. “Useless.” He decided, slipping down off the stool and flouncing into the lounge to examine the bits and pieces of Ikea shelf Hal had left on the floor the night before.

Hal shook his head. Robin’s prickly personality was oddly charming. Even if he had insulted Hal and his apartment within two minutes of meeting him.

He picked up their plates, jamming them into the dishwasher haphazardly and kicking it shut.

“These instructions make no sense.” Robin announced. “They are needlessly complicated.”

Hal glanced over from where he was putting away the sandwich stuff. Robin was sitting cross legged in the middle of the still-yet-to-be-built shelf, one hand on his chin as he read the instruction manual, the bag of screws in his other hand. “Yeah, Europeans.” He said by way of explanation.

Robin ignored him, and put the booklet down, picking up a piece of wood instead. “This slop can hardly be called furniture.” He said rudely. “It is nothing but pulped wood and wood laminate masquerading as furniture.”

From a twelve year old the size of a kitten, the statement was hilarious. Hal supposed the kid probably thought it sounded cooler than it did. “My friend picked that out.”

Robin shot him a look. “They must hate you.” He said, going back to the shelf.

Well.

He wouldn’t put it past Carol to buy him hideous shelves as a joke.

Hal pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping out a message to Carol asking if she had.

She just responded with a question mark, which didn’t help him at all.

Robin muttered something that definitely wasn’t English, and Hal put his phone away, watching as the young sidekick expertly fitted the complicated back panels of the shelf together. He had gotten a miniature screwdriver from somewhere and Hal saw it was painted the in the same colours as his uniform.

It would have been cute if not for the wickedly sharp sword over the child’s shoulder.

There was a sharp knock on the door and Hal glanced over at it.

“That will be father.” Robin said, not moving from his spot as he screwed the back panels together deftly.

Hal raised an eyebrow, but it seemed Robin was more interested in putting the shelf together than going to meet his father, so Hal pushed off the counter and padded over to the door.

It _was_ Bruce on the other side, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit and holding a backpack covered with colourful badges and patches. “Jordan.”

“Hiya Spooky.” He greeted, raising an eyebrow at the bag questioningly and stepping aside to let Bruce in.

He looked like he had just come from work, which, given the time, Hal supposed he probably had.

Hal shut the door and turned around, immediately ramming into Bruce’s back because the other man hadn’t moved out of the way. “What are you doing?” He demanded, skirting past Bruce impatiently. “This hallway isn’t big enough for both us.”

“Why is there a box- You’ve been moved in for over a week now, why haven’t you unpacked?” Bruce demanded, glaring at the long, rectangular box that contained the hall table Carol had picked out.

Hal pushed past him. “We need to talk about boundaries.” He grumbled. “Kid, your parent is here. Time to scram.”

Robin peeked out from behind the wall. “Father.” He greeted formally.

Bruce brushed past Hal. “Go and get changed.” He ordered, holding out the backpack.

Robin scowled at the bag. “You couldn’t have brought one that Nightwing and Fatgirl haven’t ruined?” He asked, demanding and childish. “It looks like a child vomited on it.”

“Go. You’re in no place to argue with me after this stunt.” Bruce ordered, eyes narrowing.

Robin’s scowl deepened, staring up at his father belligerently.

Hal raised an eyebrow. Now that he knew the kid was Bruce’s, he could the similarities in the personality.

Robin caved first and snatched the bag off his father. He stalked off, cape snapping behind him just his fathers did and a moment later the door to the bathroom slammed shut.

The lounge was quiet for a moment.

“Cute kid.” Hal commented jokingly, walking around the couch to clean up the mess Robin had made of his shelves. Really, it was already a mess, but it gave him something to do and there was a game on later that he wanted to watch, and he didn’t want to trip over anything.

“Hal… About today, he didn’t mean to… bring up things that might be uncomfortable for you.” Bruce said finally.

Hal was surprised Bruce’s head didn’t explode. “It’s fine.” He said, pushing the mess of bits of shelf with his foot, trying to get them in some semblance of order.

“No. It’s not-”

“Bruce.” Hal snapped, irritated. “He didn’t know. And while I’d rather he didn’t go through my things or bring it up, it’s not going to send me into a tailspin.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched.

“I’ve had six years to figure out how to deal with it.” Hal said shortly. “I can handle an insensitive kid.”

Bruce looked unconvinced.

“Just drop it before you give yourself an aneurysm.” He muttered, bending to push the shelf into a disorderly pile. He was going to get to it eventually, but he was itching to get down to the gym and work out some of the frustration under his skin that always popped up when someone stared at him with pity in their eyes.

“Thank you.” Bruce said from behind him and sounded like it was causing him genuine pain to even get the words out. “For looking after him.”

Hal looked over his shoulder. “Well I wasn’t going to toss him out on the street. He’s _twelve_.”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

The shelves clanked together as Hal moved them out of the way of the couch and TV. He didn’t know why he needed so many bookshelves, but Carol was excited and the high from the special Ikea meatballs had worn off, so Hal had just let her buy them.

“That’s not what I meant.” Bruce said finally.

Hal raised an eyebrow, shoving the bag of screws and bolts into one of the drawers on the TV cabinet. He would probably remember where he put them.

“Damian didn’t have a traditional upbringing. He doesn’t understand boundaries the same way other children might.” Bruce explained haltingly, hilariously awkward for a man who dressed up as a bat and taunted aliens on a regular basis.

Hal wanted to say something stupid about how Bruce didn’t have a traditional upbringing either, but he wasn’t that much of an asshole to bring up dead parents. “There’s nothing on your Wikipedia page about another kid.” He said instead.

Bruce grimaced. “It’s a… recent development. I’m still working on finalizing the paperwork.”

Hal kicked a few scraps of cardboard under the couch. “Another orphan? Like the others?” He asked. He had been surprised to find out that Bruce Wayne apparently made a habit out of collecting eerily similar looking children. But then, he also wasn't suprised, because that was Spooky _all_ over. Adopt orphan clones and dress up as a Bat instead of getting therapy.

“No.” Bruce said finally. He glanced at Hal and shrugged. “He’s my biological son.”

Hal snorted. “And you just found out now?” He asked, confused. He wondered who was insane enough to have a kid with Bruce Wayne. And if they knew that Bruce Wayne was secretly the leader of the Justice League.

Probably not.

“It’s complicated.” Bruce said, shoulders slumping in a barely noticeable sigh.

“Does this mean you’re a deadbeat?” Hal joked.

Bruce glowered at him. “Idiot.”

And _there it was_. “Oh good. We’re back to insults. I was beginning to think you’d been replaced by a pod person.” Hal scoffed, waving a hand. “I think that’s a new record for you anyway. Ten minutes without insulting me or glaring at me.”

Bruce sighed, low and frustrated as he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He said something under his breath that Hal didn’t quite catch.

“Sorry, what was that?” Hal taunted, putting a hand by his ear. “Speak up, Spooky.”

“I was just trying to thank you.” Bruce snapped, eyes flashing. “Damian can be difficult, even for adults. After what he did, I wouldn’t have blamed you for being angry.”

“He’s a kid.” Hal said with a shrug. “And he’s your kid, so I guess he gets an extra pass for being slightly off the wall.”

Bruce smiled briefly, head dipping as he snorted in amusement. “I just wanted to say that I appre-” Bruce broke off suddenly and narrowed his eyes at the hallway.

Hal followed his gaze and saw nothing but the boxes he had dumped there a week ago. He really needed to unpack those.

“_Damian. _What have I said about eavesdropping?” Bruce snapped, expression hardening and one hand sliding into the pocket of his suit pants.

Robin- Damian, apparently, strode out of the hallway, backpack slung over his shoulder. He had a narrow eyed glare on his face, and he plodded right up to Hal, looking up at him, expression challenging and hands around the straps of his backpack. “See?” He demanded pointedly.

Hal did not see. “What?” He asked.

He had imagined the miniature kid to look just like Bruce, and he did, right down to the expressive eyebrows and thick hair. The only difference was the green eyes and darker skin.

Damian squinted at Hal for a moment and then looked at his father. “He’s an idiot.” He said incredulously.

Hal looked at Bruce accusingly.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Damian.” He scolded, though there was definite fondness in his tone.

Damian scowled, letting go of the straps of his backpack and folding his arms. “Blind.” He spat at both Bruce and Hal and stomped out of the lounge and down the hall to the front door. “Father, we need to go. Alfred needs his milk soon or he will think I’ve abandoned him.” He called.

Hal looked at Bruce for clarification.

Bruce sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “We have a cat.” He said stiffly.

Hal raised an eyebrow, amused by the idea of Bruce looking after a cat. “You named your cat Alfred?”

“Damian-”

“Father!” Damian snapped impatiently.

Bruce looked pained. “Yes, I’m coming, Damian.” He said, and Hal never thought he'd see the day when the big, bad bat was cowed by a pipsqueak.

Damian was already in the hall, when Bruce and Hal joined him, tapping away on a sleek black phone. He barely looked up as Hal and Bruce joined him, thumbs moving quickly, and eyebrows set in a familiar frown.

Bruce put a hand on his head, tilting it up so the young boy was facing Hal. “Damian.” He prompted.

Damian glowered at his phone and then lowered it. He took a deep breath, drawing up his shoulders. “Thank you for your hospitality, Captain Jordan. _Even if_ your choice in décor and security are abysmal.” He said sassily.

Oh yeah, that was all Bruce.

Hal smiled despite the insult. “Nice meeting you, Damian. Maybe next time, use the front door instead?”

“I did use the front door. You forgot to lock it after you left, and your alarm system wasn’t even engaged.” Damian huffed. “How _you_ can be a hero, I will never understand.” Was all he said before he flounced off down the hallway.

His dramatic exit was stymied slightly by the fact that he had to wait for the elevator.

“I can see the family resemblance.” Hal told Bruce, grinning.

Bruce was giving him a flinty eyed stare, lips pressed together.

“What?"


	2. Black Bat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYYYYYYYYYYY YA BITCH PASSED HER EXAMS
> 
> AND GOT A JOB IN HER FIELD
> 
> IM GRADUATING IN 12 DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYS
> 
> EVERYTHINGS COMING UP VII.

Chapter 2: Black Bat

The back of his neck prickled.

Hal couldn’t quite shake the uneasy feeling plaguing him.

Every instinct was firing on all cylinders.

Hal wiped his hands on the greasy rag tucked into his belt, unsure why he was so tensed all of a sudden. Glancing at Tom, his childhood friend seemed unperturbed, tucking away his tools into his giant toolbox.

Hal rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable for some reason.

* * *

Hal lay in bed, hands on his stomach, staring at the ceiling.

His shoulders itched and he felt pinned, almost embarrassed.

Rolling over, he tried to get comfortable on his pillow. He stared out the window, across Coast City. The city was relatively quiet, still lit up, but it wasn’t the bustling metropolis that LA or New York were.

For some reason, the open curtains creeped him out.

He never closed the curtains, but he felt too exposed.

Sighing, Hal got up and pulled on the cord for the blinds, letting them down with a loud bang as it hit the windowsill.

* * *

“Blueberry, thanks.” Hal said, fumbling for his wallet. He really needed to stop eating out. He didn’t earn enough to do it every day. “And a black coffee.”

The cashier looked as sleepy as Hal felt, punching in numbers on his computer distractedly, groping around for the tongs and paper bags next to him. “Ten fifty.” He droned, yawning widely, tipping the eftpos machine at Hal.

Hal bumped his card against it and felt a shiver run down his spine.

Rolling his shoulders, he frowned, the skin on the small of his back prickling uncomfortably.

Hal shifted out of the way so the next person could order, scanning the dinky coffee shop that had opened up on the bottom level of his shittily made, but fancy looking apartment building.

There were two young men huddled over a computer, arguing about why their code wouldn’t compile. A businesswoman was sitting at a table by herself, sipping a drink, and there was a group of young men and women in athletic wear sitting at a table, talking loudly.

There was something… off.

It felt like everyone was staring at him, but not in a good way.

“Black coffee and a blueberry muffin?” The girl at the counter called, pushing the cheap cup and crumpled paper bag across the counter. She wasn’t looking at Hal, already looking over her line of cup lids.

Hal picked up his sad looking muffin and coffee and hunched his shoulders, feeling judged.

* * *

“What’s with you?” Carol asked, sliding into the barstool next to Hal while Tom tried to impress the girls from accounting with his darts skills. “You’ve been brooding all day. You didn’t even try to hit on Maple, and I think you hurt her feelings.”

Hal glanced at the older bartender that always served the Ferris group when they came in after work on a Friday.

“And you’ve been jumpy all week.” Carol continued. She pressed her lips together, brows knitting in concern. “Is everything okay? You’re… juggling your second job okay?” She asked pointedly.

Hal shrugged. The Guardians were still assholes, and John was still off dealing with whatever Coup had cropped up on Titan, leaving Hal to deal with sector 2481 by himself. “It’s okay.”

Carol looked concerned. “Seriously, what’s going on, Hal? Normally I’d get some stupid answer about John and how much you hate Bruce and the smurfs.” She murmured. “They’re not putting pressure on you to take that long term assignment, again, are they?”

Hal sighed. He sometimes hated having grown up with Carol. She saw straight through him every time. “It’s not… that.” He said, bobbing his head and picking at his greasy fries. “I’ve just been on edge the last few days, as if someone’s-”

And then all of a sudden, he knew why he was so on edge, why he had been stressed and tense for the past few days.

He knew this feeling.

It was the same feeling he had gotten way back when, when his plane had gone down and he’d been dragging Johnson through the sandy deserts of Bialya, trying to get to the nearest friendly base and praying his stupid ass co-pilot didn’t bleed out.

He was being _watched_.

Immediately, he tensed up, throwing his senses wide, taking note of the couple in his periphery, the busy bar behind him.

“Hal?” Carol pressed, leaning against him. “Like someone’s what?”

Sinestro.

It had to be Sinestro. He was the only person, alien, whatever, nutso enough to stalk Hal to Earth, and follow him around like a deranged puppy.

“I have to go.” Hal said distractedly, already thinking about all the damage Sinestro could do.

For a moment, he was tempted to call in the League to help him flush Sinestro out of wherever he was hiding in Coast City, but immediately squashed it. He hadn’t told anyone but Barry about what had gone down between him and Sinestro and he could only imagine the fussing from Clark and Bruce’s disdain.

“Hal!” Carol shouted from behind him. “Are you kidding me?! You were supposed to get the tab!”

Hal ducked down an alleyway, the Ring reacting to his anger immediately and wrapping him in green light and his uniform.

* * *

Hal’s late night patrol of Coast City yielded no sightings of Sinestro, or anything out of the ordinary at all.

He had stopped a few muggings, and robberies, but this wasn’t Gotham and there were hardly world ending criminals running around at any given moment of the day.

Hal landed in the dark, musty smelling alleyway, letting his uniform fade back into his Ring. Even the thrill of flying and the thrum of power through him wasn’t enough to improve his sour mood. The presence seemed to have disappeared, but it didn’t ease his mind any.

The entry way of his building was quiet and empty as he let himself inside. He collected the mail, only a shitty piece of junk mail advertising some seedy porn magazine and took the elevator upstairs.

Hal wasn’t quiet or careful when he shoved his front door open.

Tossing his keys and the shitty advertisement in the direction of his couch, Hal pulled off his jacket and kicked the door shut behind. His foul mood was only made worse when he remembered he didn’t have anything to eat.

Glowering at nothing in particular, Hal snapped on the lights and stopped dead at the black, plastic bowl sitting innocently on the island counter. It still had the clear takeout lid on, and there was a pair of chopsticks and a little plastic soup spoon sitting on top of it.

Hal stared at it for a long time.

“Sinestro, you piece of shit, get your shiny bald head out here!” Hal roared, uniform springing back around him protectively. The Ring hummed on his finger, searching his apartment and the building for any sign of alien life.

The Ring finished its scan, somewhat confused.

Hal looked down incredulously. “You can get confused?” He demanded, shaking his hand out. He had always had the suspicion that the Ring was slightly more sentient than the Guardians would have him believe, but he had certainly never gotten _confused_ from it before. “That’s impossible!”

It hummed at him, reporting that there were no Korugarian lifeforms in the vicinity, nor any trace of yellow Fear in in his apartment.

Hal dropped back onto the tiled floor and did his own walk through of his dark apartment. It was silent and empty, and aside from the suspicious, magically appearing bowl, nothing was out of place.

Returning to the living space, Hal decided to just rip the lid off and deal with whatever beastie popped out.

Instead of an alien monster, Hal simply got a faceful of delicious smelling steam.

The Ring was distinctly disapproving as he ate the bowl of wontons.

* * *

“What’s arugula?” Hal wondered to himself, staring at the shopping list Carol had given him for their weekly dinner. Juggling the basket he had on his arm and the list in his hand, Hal pulled out of his phone, googling it. “Oh- spinach?” He asked no one.

Hal looked at the mass of various green leafy plants staring at him from the veg section.

None of them looked remotely like the plant in the picture and nothing was labelled because apparently rich assholes didn’t need to know what their food was called.

Hal shrugged and grabbed a bunch of green leaves off the table and dumped it in his basket. “Artichoke hearts. What on Earth is that? Can you eat those?”

He wandered down the aisles of the fancy grocery store in Carol’s neighbourhood, trying to puzzle out the strange ingredients she had instructed him to buy.

As he did so, he became aware of a, now familiar, sensation of being watched.

His shoulders itched and he fought the urge to roll them, doing his best to pretend not to notice. His patrol last week hadn’t yielded Sinestro, and he had been patrolling each and every night and the presence followed him everywhere.

Everywhere except for the sky.

Which told him whoever it was couldn’t fly.

Ruling Sinestro out.

So he was no closer to figuring out who, or what, was following him around. And why.

So far, they hadn’t moved in, no creepy messages slipped under his door. Only a bowl of wontons.

Hal collected the rest of Carol’s ingredients and paid quickly, stuffing them into the fancy net bag Carol had given to him. The leafy green thing he had got stuck out in all directions, leaves not at all contained by the net.

His mystery watcher remained.

Hal set off in a meandering walk down the street, away from Carol’s apartment. He walked aimlessly for a little bit and then at the last moment, ducked down a narrow, dark alleyway that would hopefully force his stalker to show themselves.

The Ring hummed on his hand and cloaked him obediently, bending the light around him so he vanished from view.

He waited, floating off the ground.

The alleyway was quiet, and it seemed his stalker wasn’t keen on coming out to play.

Hal fidgeted with Carol’s bag. He couldn’t fight crime holding a netted bag of weird rich people vegetables! Imagine if someone got a picture of Green Lantern fighting a stalker holding vegetables?

He’d lose his status as the most popular hero on the West Coast in no time.

A slight movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned, just in time to see a tiny grey pellet flying out of the dark alleyway, headed in his general direction.

He dodged whatever it was, and it exploded on contact with the brick wall behind him, bursting in a flare of acrid smelling smoke. The smoke billowed out around Hal in a giant cloud that blocked his sight.

Hal realized that whoever was following him must have thrown it to see where he was.

The Ring hummed as he summoned a fan to blow the smoke away, and as he did, he caught the tail end of a cape going over the top of the building and chased after it, summoning a bright green spotlight.

But when he reached the rooftop, there was nothing at all.

Scowling, Hal adjusted his grip on Carol’s ridiculous bag and swept the spotlight over the roofs and streets below, searching for any sign of a dark figure with a cape.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Hal was forced to admit he had blown it, and whoever his stalker was had gotten away from him.

Their eyes hadn’t returned, but he was no closer to figuring out who it was or what they wanted.

Annoyed and more than a little frustrated, Hal scoffed at the dark night and flew away, headed for Carol’s apartment. It took him a fraction of the time to fly there, landing on her balcony, vegetables mostly in tact and his pride wounded.

Carol had her back to him, fiddling around with her entertainment system.

He knocked on the sliding glass door and snorted when she jumped in surprise.

She barreled over, yanking open the door with a loud noise, eyes narrow and hair still in its tight bun from the workday. “What are you doing?” She demanded, crowding him as she stepped out, looking around. “Did you fly up here?!”

“Express delivery.” He quipped, waving the netted bag at Carol.

She snatched it out of his hand. “You are really the worst person in the world at keeping a secret identity, aren’t you? You have an ineffectual mask, you tell _everyone_ your name, and you fly around in your normal clothes!” She scolded, ushering him inside, still looking around to see if her neighbours had noticed. “What would people say if they knew Green Lantern came up here? It would only tak-”

“They might think you’re the West Coast Lois Lane.” He said, giving her a grin.

She glared at him drolly. “… Idiot.”

* * *

When Hal got home from Carol’s, there was a paper bag on the island counter.

He opened the bag as he dug around in the dishwasher for a clean glass.

A pair of still warm apple turnovers.

Hal stared at the sweet pastries. “Well… He’s good for something, I guess.” He said, shrugging.

The Ring hummed worriedly as he ate the apple turnovers.

* * *

“Stop being so reckless, Lantern, you’re a moron, Lantern, I’m Batman and I don’t have a girlfriend, so I yell at everyone because I’m an anal retentive asshole.” Hal muttered to himself, tossing his wet razor back into the drawer carelessly. “We have a round table for a reason, Lantern, but actually fuck you, I’m not going to listen to anything you say.”

He jammed the drawer shut, swiping at his jaw and cheeks with his soaking wash cloth, ignoring the water running down his arms.

“Fucking asshole.” He growled, still fuming at Bruce’s quick dismissal of Hal’s plan to take down the big bad of the week.

It was good fucking plan.

Hal goes in, puts on a light show, gets the attention of the big ugly worms flying around dropping little ugly minions, and then lure them away from the city and take care of them where there were less people while the others dealt with the minions.

It was foolproof.

He had dealt with Titanichthys worms before and they were big, slow, stupid things, easy enough to blow up when you didn’t have to worry about property damage.

“I had that shit. I know how to deal with it, because I’ve actually been to fucking space, and what does he do? Call me an idiot and them chum right on up to Clark.” Hal grumbled, stomping out of the bathroom. He hadn’t bothered to turn the bathroom or bedroom light on, and he stumbled over his boots that he had left by the door. “Fuck Batman. Fucking stupid ass bat and his stupid face…” He continued, flopping onto his bed.

It was still as uncomfortable as it always was. Too soft, and flat. But he couldn’t afford the fancy memory foam ones, so he had to make do with the shitty slats and thin mattress from the budget part of Ikea.

He jammed his pillow under his head, exhausted from a long day at work and an even longer day dealing with the Titani invasion.

He grumbled a little more before giving in to the exhaustion pulling at his eyes.

_The cotton candy pinup girl waved at Hal, blowing him a kiss. There was an old fashioned airman made of gummi bears behind her, sitting on the nose of his gummi plane, eating it._

_Something tugged at Hal’s consciousness, trying to draw him out of the dream._

_Hal kept sipping the milkshake in his hands. There was a white chocolate fountain nearby, and there was a beautiful chocolate woman bathing in it, occasionally turning around to give Hal a wink._

_The something came back with more force, glowing green on his hand._

_Hal brushed it away, sipping his milkshake as the pinup girl fluffed her cotton candy hair and smoothed down her skirt._

_A line of mints walked by, trotting along in formation, candy canes held up like rifles-_

The Ring woke him up with a painful shock and Hal yelped, jolting away violently and smacking his head on the headboard.

Rolling over, Hal groaned groggily, disoriented from his rude awakening, and as he did so, he saw a shadowy figure crouched on the end of his bed, staring right at him with demonic white eyes and pointed, curved horns.

The demon and Hal stared at each for a moment, both surprised apparently by the other’s presence in his bedroom.

“What the fuck?!” Hal bellowed as soon as his brain caught up. He threw himself out of his bed, legs tangling in his sheets, pillow going flying, and glass of water smashing on the ground with a loud crash.

The demon leapt at the window as Hal shot a clumsy, confused looking mess of a construct at it, the bright flash of green light blinding him.

Hal managed to catch himself before he faceplanted, tumbling out of his bed with a loud thump. There was a crash as his construct crashed into something and he dragged himself up using the bed, squinting painfully through the after images the brightness of the ring had caused.

The demon was gone, leaving nothing but an open window in its wake.

The crash had been Hal’s construct going through his wall and into the bathroom. There was a jagged hole in the plaster, big enough that Hal could see the bathroom mirror.

Hal stared at the hole in the wall. “Oh for fucks sake.” He moaned, sagging against his bed.

* * *

Hal’s nerves were shot to hell.

Two weeks.

_Two weeks_ and his phantom stalker hadn’t let up for more than twelve hours at a time. The only time he got any respite was when he finally snapped and escaped to hide on the moon for a few hours, and even then, he had to come back because Helen had a birthday party and he couldn’t miss another one.

For all of his skill as the Green Lantern, after the encounter in his bedroom he hadn’t caught so much as a hair of his stalker. There were no notes, no threatening phone calls, no heavy breathing.

The only clue was the occasional bowl of hot foot that appeared in his kitchen, and even then, there was no pattern to it.

He didn’t think he’d slept more than a few hours in that time, and Carol was beginning to drop more and more hints about him taking time off and going to see Dinah.

“Lantern-”

Hal jumped and punched at Bruce automatically. “Fuck- _Who let you in here?!_” He demanded without thinking, staggering away, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

Bruce stepped back, dodging Hal’s wild attack. He looked as disapproving as he always did, mouth a thin, straight line and arms folded. “I work here.” He said, droll and dry.

Hal squinted. “… Really? You’re going to make jokes now?” He demanded. “After you’ve been following me around like the creepy asshole you are?”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line and he made the low rumbling noise he always did when he thought someone had said something stupid. “Excuse me.” He demanded, incapable of inflection as always.

Hal couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured it out sooner. Bruce was a fucking phantom, and he was creepy enough to follow someone around for two weeks for no reason. “You! Following me around like an overgrown stalker! I know you’re a paranoid bastard, but really?!”

The shitty breakroom the UN had crammed into their headquarters was quiet for a long moment.

“_What_?!” Hal demanded, already on edge and growing more unnerved by the eerie, unblinking white lenses of Bruce’s cowl.

Bruce glowered at him darkly. “Contrary to your delusions of grandeur, Lantern, I have better things to do than follow you around.” He said rudely.

“Really?” Hal put his hands near his head. “Because whoever was in my room the other night had a big old familiar looking set of ears, Spooky!” He cried sarcastically, waggling his fingers at Bruce in an approximation of Bruce’s stupid bat ears.

Bruce’s expression flattened out. “You really think I would want to watch you sleep?” He demanded.

“Well you do dress up as a bat and insult aliens, so who really knows with you?” Hal retorted sarcastically.

Bruce frowned, lips drawing up in irritation. “I was not stalking you.” He said, apparently offended.

Hal rolled his eyes, folding his own arms. “Well someone was following me for the last two weeks, and they had bat ears and a penchant for lurking in dark spaces. How many of those do we have around here, Spooky?” He demanded.

“Two.”

Hal yelped for the second time that night, skittering away from the figure that had suddenly appeared by his elbow. “Jesus-” He hissed, shoulder bumping into Bruce’s chest. He staggered a little bit, because Bruce was built a brick shithouse and didn’t even move.

The figure was actually a woman, a few inches shorter than Carol. Her cowl was eerily similar to Bruce’s, as was the suit she was wearing, right down to the boring colour scheme and dramatic cape. Unlike Bruce’s cowl however, hers covered her entire face, leaving Hal staring at two creepy white lenses that appeared to take up most of her face.

Hal shoved away from Bruce, heart beating too quickly. “God that is never not creepy.” He muttered, rubbing his chest.

“Black Bat.” Bruce rumbled, unmoved. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Black Bat stared at Bruce. “Not supposed to do a lot of things.” She said.

If he hadn’t just been scared by a tiny woman in a bat costume, Hal might have found it funny that apparently all of Bruce’s crazy bat proteges sassed him. The only person who could spar with Bruce on a regular basis was Diana and she never did because she was too good for that sort of thing.

“Stop listening to the things Hood tells you.” Bruce growled. “You don’t have clearance for the League Headquarters.”

Black Bat shrugged, apparently unbothered.

Hal was very bothered. How old was she? And how did she get in? “What have you been teaching these children?” He hissed at Bruce, more than a little alarmed. He didn’t like the thought of children fighting crime, it made him think of child soldiers.

Bruce ignored him. “Go to the car. We’ll talk about this on the way home.”

“Talk now.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The two bats stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time.

Hal took a step away.

Bruce’s mini-me glanced at him, cocking her head, apparently done with the staring contest. Instead, she took a small step closer, craning her neck as if trying to get a better look at him.

Hal stared back. “What?” He asked warily, half expecting Bruce to yell at him for something. “Why are you looking at me?”

The silence stretched on and Hal wished Bruce would stop pretending to be a statue and usher the kid off to Bat-therapy or whatever.

Finally though, she moved, reaching up to unclasp some hidden catches on the side of her neck.

“Black Bat-”

She brushed Bruce’s hand away, removing her cowl in one smooth movement.

Black Bat had dark hair pulled back in a loose bun and intelligent eyes. She was smiling at Hal, small and quiet, and had that strange ageless look some people possessed. “I am Cassandra Cain-Wayne.” She said politely, holding her hand out for Hal to shake.

Hal took it dumbly; not really sure what else he was supposed to do.

On the one hand, she was small and sassed Bruce like nobody’s business.

And on the other, she had terrorized him for the better part of two weeks, watched him sleep, and left copious amounts of food that was creepily similar to the things Hal liked to order himself.

“So you’re the one who was creeping around my bedroom the other night?” Hal asked warily, eyeing the young woman. She didn’t look a thing like Bruce, but she held herself the same way Bruce did, appearing to take up more room than she actually was. “And the one bringing me food?”

She gave him a small smile. “You forget to go shopping often.” She explained.

“And your solution to that was to stalk me?” Hal demanded. He tried to be nice about it because this was Spooky’s kid and he didn’t want Bruce to go all righteous, offended father on him if Hal yelled at his kid.

But really, this was Bruce’s fault.

Who taught children how to stalk people anyway?

“I had to see for myself.” Cassandra murmured, folding her cowl into a square and then unfolding it again.

“… See what?” Hal asked, glancing at Bruce again, hoping for an explanation.

Bruce was staring at Cassandra with folded arms and a dark scowl, completely ignoring Hal.

Neither Cassandra nor Bruce bothered to answer Hal. “See what?” Hal pressed, confused and slightly worried. He knew Bruce was crazy, and obviously his kids were crazy too, but what were they trying to see in him?

Cass rocked back on her heels, locking eyes with Bruce.

Bruce sighed. “Cassandra.”

“Yes.”

“You cannot watch people sleep.”

Cassandra glanced at Hal, hazel eyes twinkling before she looked back at Bruce. “Why not? You do.”

Hal snorted, not overly surprised by the revelation. He edged away from Bruce, nonetheless.

Bruce looked even more unimpressed than usual. “That isn’t the point. You’re not supposed to be here and you are definitely not cleared to be running reconnaissance missions on members of the League. Go to the car.”

Cassandra’s smile turned secretive.

Finally, she relaxed and sighed.

“It was nice to meet you, Captain Jordan.” She said quietly, touching Hal’s arm briefly before she looked back at Bruce. Lifting her hand and folding down her two middle fingers, she waved at Bruce slightly.

Hal wasn’t sure what the gesture meant but he hoped it wasn’t a code word for ‘I’ll continue to stalk Green Lantern’.

Bruce just sighed. “Car. Now.”

She nodded and inclined her head, smile never fading before she turned on her heel and disappeared as quickly and quietly as she had appeared.

Hal stared after her for a moment and then eyed Bruce. He wasn’t sure what Cassandra and Damian were trying to find out about him, but it looked almost as if Bruce was putting them up to it… “Spooky, what the Hell was that?”

“I’ll let you know when I find out.”

“You know, that’s _not_ helpful.”

“Things take time, Lantern. Not everything in life needs instant gratification.”

“And what the hell does _that_ mean?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can’t tell me that Hal ‘train wreck of a human being’ Jordan wouldn’t eat stalker food
> 
> Because he would.
> 
> Cass said ‘I Love You’ to Bruce in ASL. 
> 
> Titanincthys was a type of placoderm (armoured fish) in the Devonian.


	3. Nightwing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick accidentally makes Hal think he’s insane.
> 
> Bruce is really trying his best.
> 
> And Hal just wants his damn food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some actual batlantern content, i hope you like it because i spent way too long trying to channel the chaos that was JL:War

Chapter 3: Nightwing

“Hey Harry.”

“Hal, Mila.”

“That’s what I said.” Mila said, getting up from where she was peering at her phone through her thick, pink rimmed glasses. “You want fanta or coke today?” She asked, jabbing at the clunky, old fashioned register sitting on the rickety counter.

“Coke, thanks Mila.”

“Extra beans and rice, yeah?”

He gave her a smile, always grateful for the extra portions she dumped into his orders. “You know me so well.” He said, handing over a twenty.

The register made an awful noise as it popped open and spat out the receipt. Mila seemed immune to it as she counted out Hal’s change carefully, making sure he could see it all, as she always did, because Mila was many things, but dishonest wasn’t one of them. “You give me all your money is why.” She said, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll make an honest man out of me yet, Mil’s.” He said, dropping her a wink.

She waved him away with a pleased smile and a blush. “Yeah, yeah. You eating here?”

“Always.”

She scoffed at his attempts to flirt. “You’ll have to get your drink yourself for that, Harry!” She called, as she bustled into the backroom to make his order.

“Hal!”

“That’s what I said!”

Hal snorted and shook his head. Thirty years he had been coming here, and Mila hadn’t changed a bit. She had picked up on Martin pretending to forget Hal’s name and they had both run with it, much to five year old Hal’s displeasure.

He ducked behind the counter and got a can of coke from the old fridge, reminded of his days as a teenager with Jim, when they’d come down on the slow days and bother Mila until she’d chase them around and threaten to lock them in the walk-in.

Her little hole in the wall restaurant was empty aside from another regular Hal recognised, but given that it was after two, it didn’t surprise Hal. Come five, and the place would be packed with college kids.

He settled down at the table he used to share with his brothers and parents, cracking open the coke and taking a sip.

He checked his phone a few times, scrolling idly through a few news sites before switching back to Instagram to check up on his family and friends.

Helen had a new goldfish, which made number four, and Jim still hadn’t quite figured out how to get his entire head in the selfies he took. Ollie was flaunting his money all over the place and Barry hadn’t posted in months.

Hal liked Instagram, if only because he had more followers than Ollie did, and it was nice to have people appreciate the hard work he put in at the gym and his mid-flight selfies.

Vaguely, as Hal was looking at the ridiculous video about cheese Ollie had tagged him in, he heard the door to Mila’s open and Mila get up, calling her usual acerbic greeting to the new customer.

Hal tuned out the conversation, going back to reading the article about solar powered roof tiles that Wayne Enterprises had just announced. He wasn’t sure if Bruce had any hand in it, but it was impressive technology nonetheless and Hal was interested in-

“Richie. Richie Wayne.”

At the familiar last name, Hal looked up and promptly choked on his rice.

Dick Grayson glanced over at him, the picture of a vapid, billionaires son in his half unbuttoned white shirt and pastel pink cutoffs, Raybans firmly planted on his windswept hair. The knowing glint and mischievous grin set Hal on edge.

Coughing, Hal dropped his fork and groped around on the table for his drink.

This was what, Batkid number three in as many months?

He recognised this one, because everyone knew who Dick ‘Richie’ Grayson-Wayne was. He was almost as famous as his father for his airheadedness.

This _couldn’t _be a coincidence.

First he gets the crazy baby with a sword, then he gets stalker mcgee, and now what, stalker mcgee, attack of the airheads?

“Chew, Hal!” Mila called, shooing Dick away as she bustled into the kitchen to start on the order.

Hal was gulping down his drink and trying not to choke on that too when Dick sauntered over, holding a water bottle and stuffing an expensive looking wallet into his back pocket.

“This seat taken?” he asked Hal, and without waiting for an answer, sat down. “Thanks.”

“Do I know you?” Hal rasped, glaring at the bat-gilante in disguise that had seen fit to saunter in and disrupt his lunch.

“Nope.” Dick said cheerily, playing along. “But I can just tell you and I are going to be great friends, Harry.”

Hal didn’t bother to correct him. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yes. Actually- Oh, is that criollo?” Dick asked and swiped Hal’s fork and took a very generous bite of Hal’s chicken.

Hal pulled his lunch away, closing the lid protectively. “Do you mind?”

“Nope!” Dick repeated, winking as he chewed.

Mila bustled over, holding a brown paper bag that smelled delicious. She set it down in front of Dick. “You like my cooking?” She asked.

“It’s delicious, though I only got one bite before I was chased away.” Dick said, putting on a mournful look.

Hal got swatted in the back of the head with Mila’s order book. “Share.” She told him before turning back to Dick. “You enjoy the empanadas, yeah? And tell your daddy about me. I need a new husband.”

“We don’t want him to die, Mila.” Hal said, and got another swat in the back of the head for his troubles.

Dick laughed as Mila walked away. “I like her.”

Hal pulled his lunch closer to himself, of half a mind to get up and leave. But then, Batkids could probably smell nervousness.

Dick made a humming noise and Hal looked up from his lunch to see that he had somehow gotten a hold of Hal’s phone. He had his own phone in hand and before Hal could even think, had snapped a picture of Hal’s phone for some reason.

“Oi!” He protested, leaning over the table and snatching it away protectively. “What is it with you people and not respecting boundaries?”

“It’s a part of our charm.” Dick said breezily, smiling as he tapped out something on his own phone.

Hal looked down at his own phone and saw that Dick hadn’t been going through Hal’s search history, but, had instead been reading Hal’s mostly one sided texts with Bruce.

What could have been so fascinating about it, Hal didn’t know, because Hal only really messaged Bruce when it was League related, and even then it was in code, and Bruce rarely replied except to call Hal an idiot or something.

Dick put his phone down. “So. Hal.”

Hal looked up warily, already on edge. “What?”

“How do you feel about cows?” Dick asked.

Hal stared. “…Excuse me?”

Dick laughed. “I’m just kidding. What I actually came here to talk to you about is much less cute. See, I’m definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed but even I know commitment issues when they walk in the front door.”

Hal was officially lost. Commitment issues? Had he slept with one of Dick’s friends?

It wasn’t possible, because Hal didn’t like college coeds.

But then… How old was Dick, again?

“And as cute as all this business is,” Dick continued, gesturing at the table at large, “You’re not exactly known for your ability to commit, Jordan. And after all he’s been through, I’m really not interested in picking up the pieces after you’re done.”

The statement was honestly so offensive that Hal was almost impressed by the kid’s balls. But then, his father was Batman, so it tracked the Dick Grayson would also have balls of steel. “Are you talking about the Book Club?” He demanded, because it was honestly the only thing that came to mind when it came to commitments that Dick Grayson might also have a vested interest in. “Because if we are, then I might remind you that I helped _found_ the damn thing.”

Dick blinked. “What?”

“And I don’t appreciate the third degree.” Hal snapped. “Or the insinuation that I’m somehow going to flake out on my responsibilities.”

Now it was Dick’s turn to look confused. “Wait- I think… Are we talking about the same thing here?” he asked, blinking.

Hal honestly didn’t know, but he was getting kind of sick of being stalked everywhere by the bat-kid of the month and having his commitment to the Justice League was exactly the kind of thing he didn’t need right now. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

Dick blinked at Hal, something like realisation dawning over his face. “Oh my god- you… you don’t know?”

“Know what?” Hal demanded, at his wits end with this confusing conversation and Bruce’s horde of insane children.

Dick sat back, mouth dropping open. He raked a hand through his hair, knocking his fancy raybans askew. “You don’t- He hasn’t-Oh.” Dick’s face settled into a delighted grin. “_Oh_. Right. You don’t _know_. That would be why he… Hm.”

The change in personality almost gave Hal whiplash. “_Know what_?”

“Nothing.” Dick said, pushing himself up suddenly. “See ya, around, Harry!” he said brightly, snapping his fingers into a finger gun at Hal.

And then he was gone, sauntering out the door, sunglasses back on his head, and paper bag of empanadas in hand.

Hal stared after him in confusion, absolutely bewildered and lost as to what had just happened. But he had the feeling that he had just been given a shovel talk by Dick Grayson about the _Justice League_. “What the hell was that?” He asked nobody in particular.

Mila shrugged at him helplessly when he looked at her for help. “I don’t know.” she said. “Crazy white boys.”

“Hey!”

“You a good kinda crazy, Hal.”

Hal scratched his head, still thrown by Dick’s abrupt appearance and then disappearance, and the whole, ridiculous conversation.

That was, until he looked down and saw that Dick had also somehow managed to swipe Hal’s Styrofoam box of lunch as well.

* * *

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose.” Hal said moodily, lacing his hands behind his head as he thought about Mila’s steak sandwich in his fridge. “Or that you have something against Cuban food.”

“Quiet.”

Hal yawned, watching Bruce watch an empty dockyard. Nothing had changed in the last fifteen minutes, but Bruce was sitting there as if this was riveting television, eyes glued to the empty ports and still shipping containers.

When nothing moved, not even Bruce, Hal rolled his eyes and dug around for the gum he had swiped off Carol’s desk.

He barely got the foil off before Bruce grabbed his wrist. “What now?”

“What part of ‘quiet’, don’t you understand?”

“The part where I have to do my best impression of _you_.” Hal grumbled, pulling his gum away and shoving it in his mouth. He chewed loudly, just to spite Bruce even more. “You’re the one who insisted I needed to be here.”

“Because I don’t appreciate alien tech ending up in my city.” Bruce said, turning back to his little bat-noculars.

“You know you can’t own a city.”

Bruce glanced at him; one corner of his lips tilted up one of those stupid, smug smirks.

“… Oh fuck _off_.” Hal growled when he realised that Bruce probably _did_ own most of Gotham’s shitty real estate. “Fucking asshole. Dresses like a goddamn bat because he didn’t have a date to prom.”

“I didn’t go to prom.” Bruce said, matter of fact. “I was in Spain, with the cover models of the January playboy.”

Hal chewed furiously, glaring at the empty dockyard. “God I hate you.” he growled after a moment. “You always gotta get the last word in, don’t you?”

“You make it easy.”

Hal growled, hands twitching. “I hate you, Bats. I really do. One of these days, I’m going to throw you off a building without that little pea shooter of yours.”

“My cape can act as a glider in emergencies.”

“Right that’s it-Ah!”

Bruce didn’t let go of Hal’s arm, keeping him in an awkward bent over crouch behind the raised wall of the roof. “Try not to alert the whole city that we’re here, Lantern.” He scolded with a scowl. “And if you had been paying attention, you would have noticed that the guards are about to rotate.”

Hal’s back was not made to be bent over in this position for extended lengths of time. “Alright, alright, keep your cowl on.” he hissed, batting Bruce away. “Can we go before my back sticks like this?”

Bruce glowered some more but allowed Hal to lift him up off the roof of the abandoned factory and carry him over to the blind spot in the cameras of the laboratory they were investigating. It was a short trip, Bruce knocked out the cameras, and slipped inside while Hal kept an eye on the rather impressive contingent of guards patrolling what was supposed to be nothing more than a fertiliser laboratory.

It took Bruce all of two and a half minutes to get the samples they needed and climb back out of the roof vent.

Hal grabbed his arm and hauled him back off the roof as the cameras came back online. He flew up in a straight line until Bruce gave him the all clear that cameras would no longer be able to see them.

He took them back to the rooftop they had been observing the factory from. “Next time get Big Blue to carry you.” Hal whined, dropping Bruce off and landing himself. “How much do you weigh?” he demanded, rolling his shoulder.

“It’s the suit.” Bruce rumbled, already squinting intently into one of the vials of powder he had collected.

Hal yawned, watching Bruce do his little tests. Hal had offered to use the ring, but Bruce had just said something about due process and not trusting alien technology to do detective work.

The ring had been distinctly offended by that.

“So how’s short, angry, and stabby?” Hal asked, kicking his legs up and leaning back into a green armchair.

The look Bruce gave him was scathing.

Hal made a microscope construct for Bruce to use instead of the adorable little pocket one he was holding. He shifted the lens placement to how Bruce preferred to use it, centre right, magnified twice. “You’ve gotta get name tags or something for them or something, Spooky. I can’t keep them all straight.”

Bruce handed Hal the other sample to hold while he slid the first into the microscope. “You have close to a photographic memory, yet you can’t remember different children who look nothing like each other?” He said, peering into the device.

“They don’t look like each other my ass- I saw the pictures. They’re all little clones of you. Except for C- Uh, what’s her name?”

“Black Bat.” Bruce said, holding a hand out for the second sample.

Hal handed it to him. “Yeah, that one. How many do you have, anyway? They seem to multiply every time I turn my back.”

“Five. Legally.”

Hal squinted at the rather ominous implication behind the words. “… Legally?”

“I haven’t adopted the others.”

“Oh.” That made more sense than what Hal was thinking. Still, it was a hard sell, reconciling Bruce’s gruff, assholish self with the thought of him also adopting every stray kid that crossed his path. “… Can I ask why?”

“They still have parents.”

“Ah.” Hal nodded as if he understood, which he sort of did. But not really, because he didn’t have children and the closest he wanted to get was being Helen’s cool uncle, and sometimes giving Roy or Wally some advice about relationships. “Slight problem, I suppose.”

“Slight.” Bruce agreed. He paused, pulling back from the microscope and looking at Hal. “What do you mean, they ‘multiply’?” He asked after a few seconds.

Hal raised an eyebrow. “Nightwing?” He prompted.

Bruce looked at him, frowning.

“Wednesday? When he came and gave me the worlds most offensive shovel talk about the League?” Hal said. “You know, I’m not sure if I’m more offended by the fact that he thought he could scare me, or that he showed up in civvies.”

Bruce stared at him blankly. “Scan the city for radiation signatures matching these samples.” He ordered abruptly, dumping the little vials into Hal’s hand. “And if you find anything, don’t _do_ anything until I get back.”

“Get back from where?” Hal asked, looking at the glowing dust in his palm. It was rather warm, even through the uniform the ring conjured for him.

Bruce didn’t answer.

“Spooky-” Hal looked up and saw that he was alone on the rooftop, his microscope construct still floating at chest height. “God I hate it when he does that.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you call a car this beautiful, the _Batmobile_.” Hal grumbled, sliding into the plush leather seats of Bruce’s ridiculous car. “It should be a crime, honestly.”

“It’s a car. It doesn’t care.”

“But _I_ care.” Hal said, rubbing his side. It still ached from his last mission for the Guardians and he was seriously considering taking up Crystal from admin’s offer of a massage. “What were you thinking, calling it that?”

“Robin named it.”

Hal thought about Damian’s prickly personality and the wickedly sharp sword he carried around. Somehow, it was difficult to imagine him calling the car ‘Batmobile’. “Don’t try and pawn this off on your kid. You’re just unoriginal.” He told Bruce. “Batarang, batmobile, batman, bat cave-”

Bruce’s face twitched.

“Bat-noculars-”

“No one calls them that.” Bruce said immediately.

“Of course that’s the one-”

“We should, though!”

“Fuck!” Hal yelped, shoving himself away from the dark head that had popped up in between the front seats. His heart thumped loudly, and his elbow throbbed from where he’d rammed it into the door.

Nightwing grinned at him mischievously, leaning his elbows on the centre console and plopping his chin into his upturned palms. “Hi Hal.”

Hal stared, already on edge. That smile didn’t promise anything good, especially after their conversation at Mila’s. “… How long have you _been_ there?” Hal demanded, eyeing the younger vigilante warily.

“The whole time.” Nightwing told him cheekily.

This was definitely not a coincidence. Twice in one week?

Hal was getting more convinced that all these children popping up was some weird bat hazing ritual. For what, he didn’t know, but then again, Bruce was probably still bitchy about the stupid op with the sack head guys.

Speaking of, Bruce was glaring at his child with thin lips. “I told you to go home.” He rumbled.

“That’s where you went?!” Hal realized loudly, looking at Bruce incredulously. “What, you guys stalk each other too?”

Both Bruce and Nightwing ignored him.

“Thought I’d catch a ride with you.” Nightwing said flippantly, turning his bright grin on his father. “Hey- Can we stop for take out on the way back to the manor?”

Bruce looked like he was about to bust a blood vessel. “No.” He growled darkly. “I’m taking you to the Zeta tube. I’m sure you’re needed back in New York.”

Nightwing looked unperturbed by the acerbic words. “Nope, I got Hood to cover for me tonight.” He said cheerily. “He owed me a favour.”

“You let _Hood_ run around New York?” Bruce demanded, lips thinning even more.

Hal watched the two of them, wondering at the strange tension between them. Bruce was being even more of a prick than usual and Nightwing’s constant smiling was bordering on creepy.

“No one _lets_ Hood do anything. He was in New York anyway.” Nightwing responded lightly, waving a hand. He glanced at Hal. “And I had a bet to win.”

Bruce twitched, mouth drawing up in a glower. “A _what_.”

“What bet?” Hal asked curiously, amused by just how easily Nightwing was able to get under Bruce’s skin. Even if he was still grinning like a lunatic.

“Oh you know, the usual.” Nightwing said, winking at Hal, smile widening even further. “How long it’ll take for B to act.”

“On what?” Hal asked.

“_Nothing_.” Bruce snapped at him, turning back to the steering wheel. “I’m taking you to the Zeta, Nightwing. You and Hood can discuss your bet _in person_.”

Hal rolled his shoulder, stomach growling at him hungrily. If he flew fast enough, he could get back to Coast City and chow down on Mila’s steak sandwich before he died of hunger. “Well if that’s the case, I can lift off from there too.”

Nightwing’s grin widened, tongue between his teeth as he looked up at Bruce.

Bruce looked as murderous as one could, when they had a vow not to kill.

Hal looked between them, still wondering about the odd tension in the car. He was pretty sure the Wikipedia page had said something about Bruce being a doting father, but right now that seemed pretty far from the truth. “Spooky?”

Nightwing made an oddly high pitched noise and then coughed.

“Fine.” Bruce spat. “_Fine_. We’ll all go to the Cave.”

“Careful.” Hal said, eyeing Bruce. “Don’t try too hard to sound inviting, Bats. It’s fine, I don’t need to see your brooding man cave if you’re so desperate to maintain the air of mystery.”

“You’re an idiot.” Bruce growled, the car ripping to life under his hands.

“And yet…” Nightwing sang.

Bruce’s jaw clenched. “Seatbelts.” He ordered instead.

Hal had no idea what was going on, but he got the distinct impression that both Bruce and Nightwing knew something he didn’t. “Care to share with the rest of the class?” He drawled, leaning back in the comfortable leather seat.

“No.” Bruce growled.

Nightwing laughed knowingly.

* * *

“I thought the cat’s name was Alfred?” Hal asked as they sat in Bruce’s oversized man cave. It was an impressive feat of engineering, Hal would give him that, getting all this equipment down here and integrated into the rock face without disturbing the natural structure.

Hal needed a cave.

Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce’s actual, real life, _butler_, didn’t even blink as he busied himself with the little silver cart of food he had parked over near Bruce’s oversized bank of supercomputers. “We share a name, as it so happens.” he said mildly. “A fortuitous coincidence, I’m sure.”

Hal knew there was a joke in there somewhere, but he wasn’t sure who it was aimed at.

Nightwing, though Hal supposed it was just Dick now because he had taken off his mask, was still grinning like a loon as he perched himself precariously on the computer desk. Though now that Hal could see his eyes, it was less creepy and more just smug.

Bruce was glaring at everything.

Alfred seemed unperturbed. “Oh dear. It seems I’m a plate short.” he said suddenly, straightening up, a shining silver ladle in hand. “Master Dick, would you accompany me upstairs to get one?”

“It’s okay, Al!” Dick said eagerly, bouncing off the computer desk and throwing himself into the chair next to Bruce. “I can just share with B.” he said, swiping a piece of toasted bread of the plate with a shiny white grin at Bruce

Hal wondered, again, if this was some sort of bat-test. Bruce was acting weird, Dick was obviously certifiable, and there was a butler offering him hot towels and lobster. 

This was definitely about the botched sack head op. 

Bruce heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “It’s _fine_, Alfred. We can eat upstairs after we’ve debriefed.” He said, sounding just like he did when Barry and Arthur got into one of their excited conversations about some weird card game.

“Of course, Master Bruce.” Alfred said immediately, putting the lid back down on the clay pot just as Dick was about to dig his bread in.

Dick looked up with a distinctly put out expression.

Alfred glanced at Hal with a polite smile. “It was nice to meet you, Captain. I do hope we see more of you in the future.”

Dick’s smile returned in full force.

The vague statement, Dick’s creepy grinning and Bruce’s even more anal retentive behavior was really starting to creep Hal out. There was no way this was normal bat-gilante behavior, unless this was why Bruce didn’t want anyone else in Gotham.

Because everyone was actually insane.

They were up to something, Hal just wasn't sure what.

“Oh, we will.” Dick assured Alfred, throwing a grin at Bruce.

The ring hummed nervously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruce was tryna smash
> 
> cause you know
> 
> lobsters supposed to be an aphrodisiac


	4. Batgirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce channels his inner nurse.  
Steph crashes the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that Jason and Steph bonded and now they cause chaos for the batfam wherever they go
> 
> Also a drawer fell on my foot and i got a day off work which was nice
> 
> i've eaten two packets of noodles and three hashbrowns so i'm very bloated atm, but it's raining outside and i can just lie in bed and enjoy it

Chapter 4: Batgirl

Hal flopped face first onto his couch, head still ringing with Guy’s stupid song about his own ass, and back aching from the glancing blow he had taken. Apparently, some unsavory characters over in Metropolis had gotten their hands on some Apokoliptian tech and were using it to modify weapons.

Clark had called it in, and after a month in space, with only Guy and his godawful songs for company, Hal was running on fumes.

“That looks like it hurts.”

“Fuck!” Hal yelped and jolted, rolling off the couch in shock at the sudden voice. His back slammed into the edge of the coffee table, right where he had been burned. He banged everything on the way down, jolting the concussion he probably had, and adding to the bruises he definitely had.

He heard a gasp. “Oh my god.” The woman gasped. “I am so sorry- I… I thought you heard me come in.”

Hal groaned, going limp on the floor, awkwardly sandwiched between the couch and his coffee table. When he opened his eyes, he saw giant blue eyes staring down at him, blonde hair cascading down over slim shoulders and a familiar black bat on a grey Kevlar suit.

“Pleasedon’ttellBats.” The upside down woman said all at once.

Hal squinted in confusion, head ringing loudly and hot pain radiating across his back and shoulders. “What?”

“I keep forgetting that not everyone can hear us.” she continued, clasping her hands in front of her chin and shoulders rising in a sheepish apology. “I really didn’t mean to scare you. You hit that coffee table pretty hard, hey?”

Groaning, Hal pulled himself up using the couch and coffee table. Everything hurt more now. The burn across the tops of his shoulders burned fiercely from where it had hit the ground and sharp edge of the table.

She held a hand out to help him up and then let it fall awkwardly when he ignored it. “I’m Batgirl, by the way.” she said sheepishly, shuffling out of his way nervously.

“Uh huh.” Hal grunted, not really interested in crazy bat child number four.

Or was it five?

At least this one wasn’t grinning creepily at him. Yet.

Batgirl smiled awkwardly. “So you’re the Green Lantern, huh?” she asked, following Hal over to the kitchen. “I’ve never actually met any of the Justice League before- you guys are like the big, _big _guns, and B-man says we’re not allowed out of Gotham except in emergencies-”

Hal looked at her incredulously, pawing around in a drawer for some of the awful smelling muscle cream he had.

Batgirl leaned on the counter, plopping her chin into her palms as she watched Hal curiously. “Everyone else has met at least one Justice Leaguer and B-man is always on my case about being careful and ugh- it’s such dad energy, y’know?”

The posture was _eerily_ similar to Dick’s. Enough that Hal was immediately on edge.

“And besides, it’s not like the JL is going to hurt me, right-”

Hal abandoned his search for the muscle cream and edged around the counter, watching the bat themed vigilante warily. He may have the common sense of a frog, thanks Carol, but even he knew that something was definitely up with Bruce’s crazy children.

Were all of Bruce’s little pet sidekicks, children? Because if they were, then he needed to have words with him about child soldiers.

“I’m calling Bruce.” he muttered to himself, skittering back to the couch.

Batgirl got there first. “No, you can’t!” she cried, snatching the phone off the coffee table and vaulting back over the couch to get away from Hal.

“Oi!”

She gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry, but I can’t let you tell the old B-man that Batgirl’s in Coast City.”

Hal stared at his phone. “Give it back.”

The Ring hummed warily, and he tamped down on it. The kid might be crazy and obviously up to… something, but she was still just a teenager.

Hal Jordan could handle a teenager.

“Can’t do that, Hally-berry.” Batgirl said cheerily. “See, I’m not _technically _supposed to be here. Bats said we weren’t supposed to bother members of the League, which is stupid because I’d love to get some tips from Wonder Woman, and he also locked all of the files on you guys behind like six firewalls-”

The rapid fire explanation threw Hal for a loop. One, because he wasn’t actually sure what she was talking about, and two, because he was having trouble keeping up with the words coming out of her mouth.

“And I mean, this is all Robin’s fault anyway- if he hadn’t got caught, Bats wouldn’t have known, y’know? But anyway, we all saw the picture and Robin was being all smug about it and BB wouldn’t _tell _me anything, so of course I had to come myself because I needed to see if it was real-”

Hal shook his head. “Wait, wait, wait,” he said quickly, before she could launch into another rambling sentence at light speed. “Slow down. What are you talking about?”

Batgirl blinked and then grinned brightly. “You!”

He had a feeling he had missed something. “…What?”

She hummed and rocked back on her heels. “Well Robin came back from his little adventure and he told us- well he didn’t tell me, he told Nightwing because he thinks I’m a ‘hanger on’, whatever that means-”

Is this what having a teenager was like? Rambling speech about everything and anything, interspersed with random turn of phrase that made no sense? Is that what this was?

“-and then Nightwing showed us the recording from your last mission, and oh my gosh, it was so cute! Batsy! Smiling! Like a human being!” She finished, beaming at Hal. She tucked her hands behind her back. “And so here I am.”

Hal rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t catch a word of what you were saying.” he said tiredly. “What’s this about Bats?”

“He smiled.” Batgirl repeated, slowly, as if it held some significance.

“Okay.” Hal said, pausing to let her elaborate.

She didn’t.

Hal shook his head. “I’m failing to see why that’s relevant to you breaking into my house.”

“Cause like, he doesn’t.” Batgirl said in a tone of voice that told him she thought he was stupid. “_Ever_.”

Hal tried to think past his headache. Bruce _didn’t_ smile that often, but then, the only time he really saw Bruce was at headquarters or in the middle of a firefight, so what did Hal know?

“The last time I saw him emote was when Titus pulled off one of the hubcaps of the Jaguar.”

Who was Titus?

“He’s a dog.” Batgirl supplied helpfully.

Had he said that out loud?

“Yeah, you did, but that’s like my superpower.” she said flippantly. “Robin says Titus is his dog, but he’s totally the family dog. He always brings me leaves and I made him an Instagram and everything-”

“Come here.” Hal said, beckoning to the teenage vigilante. He needed to have a word to Bruce about recruiting children into the fight against crime. And also recruiting them to torment him. Four was getting ridiculous.

Batgirl trailed after him, chattering excitedly about how she had never been to Coast City by herself before, and how much sunnier compared to Gotham. “And you guys have a proper beach that doesn’t have bodies washing up on it every other day!” she told Hal cheerily.

He led her to the still empty spare room. It was still empty because Hal didn’t get visitors and when he did, they were usually sharing his bed.

“What’s in here?” She asked, peering into the closet.

Hal backed out of the room before her head came out of the closet, closed the door and then locked it behind him.

“Hey!” Batgirl whined. There was a thump. “Dammit, I can’t believe I fell for that.”

Hal sighed heavily, hoping the kid would get the hint and crawl back out a window and leave him alone.

“Lantern?” Batgirl called. “Hello?”

Hal ignored her and stumbled back into his kitchen and over to his fridge. He really wished he had taken Diana up on her offer of using her healing ray, but it wasn’t his fault he had been ambushed by another crazy bat child.

As he pulled out the peas, he realized Batgirl still had his phone and groaned, closing his eyes.

He was wrapping the old pack of frozen peas up when the door to the spare room swung open and Batgirl swanned out. She grinned at Hal. “Did you honestly think that would keep me out?”

“Did you _pick_ the _lock_?” Hal asked incredulously, before he could stop himself, torn between being impressed and disbelieving.

“Mm hm. It’s like the first thing B-man taught us.” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Though, of course, he was expecting us to use it to get out of hostage situations, but I think this still applies.”

Hal looked at her in concern. What on earth was _wrong_ with Gotham?

“Though, in this situation, am I the kidnapped one, or are you?” Batgirl wondered out loud. “I suppose its you because I kinda dropped in on you, but on the other hand, you did lock me in an empty bedroom.”

"Phone." Hal demanded.

Batgirl blanched and held it out neevously.

Hal unlocked it but he never got around to calling Bruce and demanding he come and collect his child, because someone knocked on the door.

“Oop. Did you order food?” Batgirl asked, bouncing out of view of the door. “I’m starving- and Nightwing said he got some really great Cuban food the last time he was in Coast City, and let me tell you, I could totally go for some Cuban food right about now-”

Hal pinched the bridge of his nose and tossed his phone aside to go and answer the door.

“Hood makes these really delicious pancakes, but you have to get him so drunk to do it-”

Hal yanked the door open, none too happy about another interruption. He was of half a mind to climb out a window and go to Oa for a few weeks. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he had to pay _rent_ now and to do that, he needed a job.

_Bruce_ was standing on the other side, wearing a black turtleneck and neatly pressed slacks. He had a sleek black lunchbag in one hand.

For a moment they stared at each other.

Bruce pressed his lips together, obviously unimpressed. “What are you doing?” he demanded, eyeing the peas.

“Oh good.” Hal growled. “Now there are two of you.” he said, trying to push the door shut, but Bruce’s stupid, shiny shoe was in the way.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “_Two_ of us?” he interrupted.

“Hey Halle-berry, you’ve only got doritos in your-”

Bruce’s eyes flared wide at Batgirl’s voice from behind Hal.

Hal glanced over his shoulder, finding Batgirl frozen in the hallway entrance, a bag of his doritos in one hand, and a jar of salsa in the other.

Both Bruce and Batgirl were eerily still, staring at each other. The awkward silence dragged on, Batgirl still clutching her stolen bag of chips, eyes wide behind her cowl.

“…Surprise?” Batgirl said eventually, shoulders rising to her ears.

Bruce closed his eyes tightly, inhaling deeply through his nose. “What.” he demanded, “are you doing here?” He asked.

Hal didn’t even have the energy to try and stop Bruce from barreling in. He’d probably just break in like every other bat-themed vigilante on the planet.

“Batgirl.” Bruce growled, shutting the door and stomping down the hallway.

Batgirl started. “Um… Recon?”

“_Try again_.” Bruce growled.

Batgirl looked increasingly shifty, eyes sliding from side to side. Finally she sagged. “It’s not fair. The others all got to meet him!” she cried.

“Robin was benched and grounded for his behavior-”

“You can’t ground me, because you’re not my dad-”

“I can bench you, which I have half a mind to do. After your stunt with Hood and the Smith case-”

“Hey- Hood looked great as a blond- the killer is targeting blond siblings, so all the more reason-”

“So all the more reason for you to exercise caution.”

Hal closed his eyes. “Can you two stop arguing about who gets to arrest Gotham’s latest serial killer and move?! My head is killing me and you’re in the way.”

Bruce looked offended by Hal’s interruption. Batgirl, on the other hand, looked delighted.

For whatever reason.

Bruce glared at Hal.

Hal threw up his hands in defeat and shoved Bruce out of the way and stomped over to slump down on his lone kitchen stool. The peas were starting to thaw out, but the condensation on the packet was nice and cooling on his face.

Bruce huffed, somehow making it sound condescending and dropped his fancy lunchbag on the countertop next to Hal’s elbow. “I’ll be back.” he growled at them both.

“I’ll be back.” Stephanie repeated in an awkward Austrian accent.

“Watch. Her.” Bruce snapped at Hal, before turning on his heel and stalking out of the apartment.

Batgirl pouted, folding her arms. “I see why Nightwang jumped ship.” she muttered.

The whole situation was so ridiculous and crazy, and Hal was a space cop who regularly fought with a red alien and a posse of crazy fear bots, that Hal couldn’t help but look at her in disbelief.

Batgirl’s eyes settled on Hal and she tilted her head, a very deliberate innocent expression on her face.

The Ring hummed warily.

Batgirl smiled again and pulled the lunchbag towards herself, unzipping it.

Hal sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head against the peas. Bruce would be back soon to sweep the crazy batgirl away and Hal could order take out and pass out on the sofa. Maybe he’d call Tom and ask him if he wanted to watch that show about the crazy doctor.

Batgirl was making an awful racket and Hal opened an eye to look at what she was doing.

She had pulled out a pristine white clay pot, along with two sets of cutlery wrapped in fancy white napkins, like the ones you got at expensive restaurants.

Hal blinked and nearly groaned when she pulled off the lid, and an absolutely delicious aroma of roasted chicken wafted out into the apartment.

“Oh yum! A made-” Batgirl froze, already big eyes widening even further as she stared at the fancy clay pot, still holding the lid in one hand. She made an odd strangled noise, eyes darting over to Hal and then back to pot.

Hal eyed her warily, the smell of roasted chicken ruined by the odd behaviour. It was shades of Dick Grayson’s creepy grin all over. “What?”

“Nothing! Nothing.” she said quickly, waving him away and bouncing on her toes. Her grin didn’t subside, in fact, it got even wider and she looked positively delighted by whatever crazy bat plan was obviously running through her brain.

Hal shifted away. He thought Damian was cute, if a little bit prickly and Cassandra had been a little bit entertaining, the way she sassed Bruce with a completely blank face. But now it was starting to get worrying.

Four of them was a pattern.

He hadn’t even _done_ anything to Bats in the last month.

Batgirl winked at Hal and pulled a sleek silver phone out of one of her numerous pouches, snapping a picture of the pot and tapping away quickly. “The others are going to be so jealous.”

“Of what?” Hal demanded, staring at the pot suspiciously. The Bat-kids had all said they were ‘looking’ for something, or investigating something, and Hal couldn’t help but wonder if that was ways to kill him.

Hal immediately dismissed that idea.

Bruce was an asshole, but he was one of the most principled people Hal had ever met. And Hal doubted he would let his children get away with murdering another Justice League member.

“Nightwang is going to be so salty. Hood and I are going to win the bet at this rate.”

Hal paused, in the middle of lifting his peas back to his head. “… What bet was this?” he probed pointedly, eyeing the clay pot with new eyes.

Batgirl grinned at him. “Nope.” she sang. “I’m not losing out on the chance to rub it in Red’s face.”

Nightwing had mentioned a Hood as well, but Hal had no idea who Red was. Bruce had said five children, but the Wikipedia never mentioned anything about a blonde-

Batgirl grinned at her phone and tapped furiously. “You’re so lucky, you know.” she said to Hal, sliding her phone away. “A never makes us anything but broccoli and brown rice. Something about ‘macros’.” she said, rolling her eyes.

Hal opened his mouth to tell her that broccoli and brown rice was healthy, but she barreled on.

“And- Oh my god, I didn’t even-” She straightened up suddenly, eyes widening and mouth dropping open. “I just- Oh bats is probably so pissed.”

“Because you failed to kill me?” Hal said without thinking.

Batgirl blinked. “What? No. Cause I-” she cut herself off, looking towards the door with big eyes, putting the lid back on the pot gently.

“Because you what?!” Hal cried, so utterly bewildered by his life and the sudden appearance of Bruce’s multitudes of children.

“I can’t tell you that or else I’ll lose the bet!” Batgirl said, leaning out to the side to peer at the door. “Should I climb out the window?” she asked him. “I should climb out the window, shouldn’t I? Man, and I only just got restricted access to the- Here, hold this.”

Hal accepted the chips she shoved at him, awkwardly trying to juggle his peas.

“_Do not_ climb out that window.” Bruce boomed, striding back into Hal’s apartment, a backpack in hand.

The front door slammed shut behind him, making Hal’s head ring even more.

Batgirl looked like she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

“Go and get changed.” Bruce ordered, thrusting the expensive looking leather backpack at her. “We can talk about you disobeying the rules when we get back to Gotham.”

For some reason, Batgirl looked surprised as she took the backpack. “You have… one for me?” She asked.

Bruce looked uncomfortable and Hal got the distinct impression he was intruding on something. Which was ridiculous, because this was _his_ house, and both Bruce and Batgirl had literally invited themselves in without asking.

Batgirl didn’t need an answer apparently, because she beamed and then darted off, cape and hair flying out behind her.

Hal’s kitchen was quiet for a moment- “So do you have a backpack of clothes for all of your kids in the trunk of your car?” he teased, head still ringing.

“Yes.”

Hal blanched, looking up at Bruce in shock, the movement jarring his head. “I was kidding- all of them?”

Bruce stared at him snootily. “Why wouldn’t I?” He sniffed.

“Right, right, Mr. Prepared for anything.” Hal grumbled mockingly. “What are you even doing here?”

“I knew you weren’t going to take care of that burn, so I brought some salve from Diana.” Bruce said, pulling a small plastic bag out of the open lunch bag, a little glass pot nestled inside carefully.

“Why couldn’t Diana have been the messenger?” Hal grumbled, snatching the bag off Bruce. “At least she doesn’t set her crazy kids on me.”

Bruce snatched it back immediately. “Because Diana would have let you get away with eating stale chips and lazing around until your injuries stopped hurting.” he snapped. “You fail to exercise caution in a fight and then continue to act recklessly with the healing process of any injuries you sustain.”

“Really, you’re going to lecture me, Mr. I-Don’t-Have-Any-Powers?” Hal demanded. “I have the most powerful weapon in the universe. I can handle myself.”

Bruce’s hand flashed out, thumping against Hal’s chest, jolting the burn on his back.

Hal yelped and staggered off his stool, dropping his peas. The burn on his upper back began to ache angrily again. “What was that for?!” he demanded, fingers flexing in agony as it continued to send waves of sharp, needling pain lanced up across his skin. “Fucking hell, Bruce, what the fuck?!”

“Keep your voice down.” Bruce said snippily. “And watch your language.”

Hal gaped at Bruce and the utter gall he had to tell Hal what to do in his own house. “Excuse- Watch my language- Fuck you, you fucking-”

“There is a teenage girl in this house, within earshot.” Bruce snapped. “You will watch your language, like any responsible adult.”

“Oh, right, cause that’s what’s going to set the kid on the wrong path.” Hal shot back. “My language and not the fact that you’ve got children running around playing hero! Children, Bruce!”

Bruce’s face shuttered and he pressed his lips together in a thin line. “That isn’t your business.”

“Well it is when you bust in here and start telling me what to do.” Hal hissed. He gestured in the direction of the bathroom, where Batgirl was. “She’s what… sixteen, seventeen? And Damian is a literal child, Bruce. He’s ten-”

“Twelve.”

Hal glared at Bruce. “Does it _really_ make a difference?”

Bruce didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed. “I let them join me because if I didn’t, they would do it anyway, without proper equipment, without training, _without backup_, and it would get them killed. At least this way they have some supervision.”

There was a nasty response on Hal’s tongue about the supposed death of one of Batman’s Robins.

Hal only held his tongue because he wasn’t that much of an asshole.

“Just keep them out of Coast City. I’m not having dead kids on my hands.” Hal growled. “They’re very cute, but show off your horde to Clark or something, I’m sure he’d love bat-daycare.”

Bruce pressed his lips together tightly. “They’re not a horde.” he said, and it almost sounded defensive.

“Oh please.” Hal scoffed, passing by Bruce to dig around in one of the drawers for something to put the cream on with. His burn was in such a spot that he didn’t think his hand would reach the entire thing. “There are like twelve of them and they run riot around you.”

Bruce looked affronted. And his expression only got more unimpressed when Hal found a relatively clean looking tea towel to use as a mitten.

“What?” Hal demanded defensively.

“You’re an idiot.” Bruce said snootily, eyeing the checkered towel with barely concealed disdain.

“_You’re_ an idiot.”

“Your skill with words never fails to astound me.”

Hal sneered at Bruce and dumped some of the salve on the tea towel. It was a waste, he knew that, but there was really no other way of getting it on his back without turning into a contortionist, and Hal was kinky, but not that dedicated to his sex life.

The harsh fabric of the tea towel scraped painfully on the inflamed skin around the burn as Hal groped around over his shoulder, trying to get it to spread somewhat evenly.

“You’re not even getting it on there.”

Hal glared at Bruce over his shoulder. “Can you shut up?” he demanded. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

Bruce shook his head and pushed off the counter. He stomped around Hal, shoving his sleeves up to his elbows as he did, and started to wash his hands in the sink.

Hal shuffled out of the way, muttering unhappily as he continued patting the cloth against the general vicinity of the burn.

“Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Bottom shelf of the pantry.” Hal said automatically. “I moved it after your child ransacked my place.”

Bruce hummed. “He’s working on boundaries.”

Hal snorted. “Seems like that’s a common problem with you bats.” he grumbled.

“Hold still.”

That was the only warning Hal got before Bruce snatched away his tea towel and tossed it onto the counter. “Hey-”

“Hold. Still.” Bruce snapped, putting one hand on Hal’s uninjured shoulder. “If you keep moving, you’ll aggravate the skin and tear it even more.”

Hal flinched at the first touch of Bruce’s fingers on the burn. He glanced over his shoulder as best he could and saw that Bruce had gotten a pair of latex gloves from somewhere.

The cream was cool and soothing on the overheated, irritated skin and he sighed as Bruce continued spreading it across the wound. He could feel it working already, the coolness and absence of pain seeping into his skin.

“Diana is a genius.” Hal said, flinching when Bruce’s fingers skated over a particularly sensitive patch of skin. “Ow!”

“Stay still.”

“It fucking _hurts_, asshole.”

“Well that’s your fault.” Bruce said unsympathetically. His hand tightened on Hal’s shoulder to stop him from squirming as he continued rubbing the cream into the burn. It smelt faintly of mint and antiseptic as he worked. “You were reckless today.”

Hal glowered at the tv across the room from him. “You could just say thank you for saving your ass.” he grumbled, grudgingly grateful for Bruce’s help. He wouldn’t have been able to patch himself up properly in time for work and then Carol would yell and Tom would get upset, and all round, it would just be a shit show.

“I had it handled.” Bruce said, superior as ever.

“Bullshit, you did- I saw it go straight through your grapple line, Spook- Ow!”

“I said hold still.”

Hal saw Bruce reach for a packaged of sterilized gauze pads and tape.

“It should heal without a scar.” Bruce said quietly, as he pulled them open. “Next time, don’t take the hit.”

“And watch you be fried?” Hal shot back, resisting the urge to roll his shoulders away when Bruce pressed the first pad against the injury. “Barry would actually start crying.”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

The cream was really starting to work as Bruce continued taping the pads in place to keep the wound clean and ensure the cream didn’t rub off. Even so Hal clenched his fingers, the sensation making his skin crawl uncomfortably.

“I faced off against Doomsday. I can handle a ray gun.”

Hal rolled his eyes. “That’s because he didn’t throw you around.” he grumbled, remembering the whole body ache that had persisted for nearly a week after he had gone toe to toe with the mutated freak.

John had been less than impressed with Hal and his and Carol’s combined lecture had nearly finished killing him.

Bruce grunted. “As _I_ said.” he sniffed. “You are far too reckless.”

Hal opened his mouth to respond when Bruce’s phone suddenly exploded into a cacophony of buzzing and dinging, skittering across the counter excitedly.

Hal looked at it, watching as the screen lit up and a barrage of messages came through all at once.

Bruce swiped it off the counter before Hal could see what any of them said. He glared at it for a moment, expression thunderous before he looked up, at the hallway.

Hal followed his gaze and his eyes landed on the boxes he still hadn’t unpacked. He _really_ needed to do that.

“Stephanie!” Bruce thundered and Hal winced, head throbbing.

There was a squeak from behind the wall and Batgirl, Stephanie, crept out from behind it with a sheepish grin. “I’ve been had, boys.” she said to herself. “Adorable.” she said out of the blue.

“Go to the car.” Bruce snapped, glowering. “_Straight_ to the car.”

Stephanie pouted, eyes growing huge in her face.

Hal was almost surprised they didn’t fall out of her head. “I’ve got it from here, Spooky.” he told Bruce, picking up the tape. The weight of the bandaging on his shoulder and back was awkward and unwieldy and he just knew he was going to roll over in the middle of the night and jolt it. “Take bat-child number six hundred and fifty home to the rest of the clan.”

Stephanie grinned and the bit down on her lip, obviously trying to hide it. “Oh man, the others are going to be so jealous.” she muttered, pulling her phone out again and tapping away on it furiously. “I’m going to buy so much food with Red’s money.”

“_Now_, Stephanie.”

Stephanie sighed. “Well this is it then, Hally-berry, it was nice meeting you.” she said, eyes twinkling as she looked between Hal and Bruce. “You’ll get used to cows, don’t worry.”

“Cows?” Hal repeated, confused by the strange statement.

Wait.

Hadn’t Dick also said something about cows?

Was this a code word for something? Like stalking Hal until he inevitably lost his mind from being snuck up on and grinned at?

Hal blanched and watched her leave, the ring vibrating nervously. He had been willing to overlook the other weirdness with Damian and Cassandra, but this was too much.

They were out to get him. This had to be deliberate.

“Hal, I’m sorry she burst in on you.” Bruce was saying. “Believe me when I say I am trying to get them to learn healthy social skills.”

Hal blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“I had intended tonight to go differently.” Bruce murmured, one hand in the pocket of his expensive slacks. He touched Hal’s elbow, expression pensive.

“It’s fine, Spooky.” Hal said, but was it really? He wasn’t so sure Bruce wasn’t behind this infestation of insane, sneaking children. And really, they were all Bat or bat-related and Bruce was the big bad bat-

“It’s not.” Bruce said. “They’re far more invested in my life than they should be.”

Hal rolled his eyes. “Gee.” he said. “I wonder why that is?”

Bruce shook his head, a slight smile on his face. “Make sure you eat something that isn’t deep fried or dripping in grease.” he said, nodding at the clay pot still on the counter top. “I had hoped that I would-”

They both looked down when Bruce’s phone rang.

_Dick Grayson._

Hal leaned on the counter. “You should probably get back to your horde.” he said, stifling a yawn. Dealing with bat themed vigilantes was surprisingly exhausting, especially when they were all apparently hellbent on being as difficult and cryptic as possible.

Bruce declined the call. “Make sure you eat.” he repeated.

Hal waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, Spooky.”

Bruce left, but not without one last snide remark about Hal’s still packed up boxes sitting in the hallway.

The Bats finally gone, Hal stared at the clay pot on his kitchen counter, innocent as can be.

He opened it, raising an eyebrow at the perfectly browned and braised chicken sitting inside, surrounded by crispy roasted potatoes and delicious looking pumpkin and roasted onion.

He hadn’t eaten proper food in almost a month, subsisting off the rations the Guardians provided, and his stomach growled at the mouthwatering smell.

Remembering Stephanie’s behavior and the fact that _Bruce_ had even brought him food in the first place, Hal scanned the dish with the ring, looking for any traces of poison.

The Ring returned nothing out of the ordinary.

Even so, as he picked at it with a fork he found by the sink, it was distinctly disapproving.

* * *

That night, Hal limped into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth.

He groped around his toothbrush and toothpaste and came up with only his toothbrush.

Looking down, Hal blinked blearily at the empty cup on the vanity, tube of toothpaste nowhere to be found. “I could’ve- didn’t I buy a new one before I went away?” He muttered to himself, bumping open a drawer with his hip.

His razor and a never used box of floss stared up at him.

Hal’s back, even with Diana’s miracle cream, wasn’t up to bending down to look in the cupboards so he simply gave up and tossed the toothbrush back into the cup and went back to bed.

He would deal with it in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce dressed up as Florence Nightingale: I will bring him food and medicine and I will tend to his wounds and it will be the pinnacle of romance
> 
> Hal: pOiSoN????
> 
> Bruce: what, no I’m trying to be romantic-
> 
> Hal: KiLl????
> 
> I'm kinda making Bruce out to be a bit useless in the romance department, but tbh, it's just surprising he's even as much of a player as he is with the vast amounts of highly trained children he has running around


	5. Duke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duke is the most competent bat child, the two sides of the bet are revealed and Alfred is in on it.
> 
> Poor Hal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know Duke’s character very well and no Bruce today. You may be able to tell because the chapter is fantastically shit and also two months late  
Also I changed jobs and now I only work 21 hours, so I have more time for fun activities. Most of which, this week, have just included me sleeping and doing my makeup at two pm in my pyjamas. But theoretically, I should be able to write more  
No promises though, since I’m still a sentient flake.  
I’ve also been watching a lot of top gear so now my internal monologue is just Jeremy Clarkson

Chapter 5: Duke

Hal dumped his water bottle and keys on the bed before heading into the bathroom. He was still riding high off the adrenaline of a good boxing session, muscles humming with warmth, and he had actually remembered to pick up replacement toothpaste on the way home as well.

All in all, despite his sore shoulder and the possibly poisoned chicken in his fridge, Hal thought his day was going pretty well so far.

Hal whistled as he tossed out the cardboard box holding the toothpaste and sauntered into the bathroom to shower and shave. He reached out to put the toothpaste in the cup only to find that there was already a brand new tube in there.

Hal frowned at the toothpaste. “Was that there last night?” he asked himself, trying to think back. He could have sworn that there wasn’t any there the night before when he had gone to brush his teeth.

Scratching his head, Hal shrugged it off, chalking it up to post battle exhaustion and tossed the new toothpaste into the top drawer.

* * *

Carol ambushed Hal in the locker rooms while he was in the middle of pulling on his flightsuit. He had some test runs to do for the new gyroscopes they were testing for Queen Industries.

“At work, Carol?” Hal said with a grin as Carol walked in, heels clicking. “You do- Ow!” Hal yelped, rubbing his arm where she had pinched him.

“Disgusting.” she said, wrinkling her nose before she grabbed his shoulder and yanked him around, so his back was to her. “Hal!”

“What? I didn’t do anything!”

“Stay still, you big baby.” Carol said snippily, as she pulled up the back of his t-shirt and poked the bandaging over his burn. “Didn’t do anything, my ass- you told me you didn’t get hurt!”

“Well it doesn’t really count. I have all my limbs- really, it was just a scrape.”

“How you can shrug this off and then call me to tell me you’re dying because you have the cold, I’ll never understand.” Carol sighed. “Shirt off and sit down, the dressing needs to be changed.”

“Oh, Carol, you do care.”

“Yeah, because that pretty face and flying skills of yours make me money.” she grumbled, and Hal heard her heels on the tiled floor as she walked away to get the first aid kit out of the cupboard. “And I’m not going to have Tom crying on my watch.”

Hal shrugged off his shirt gingerly, tossing it onto the bench next to him. “He wouldn’t cry that much.”

“He cried for a week when you broke your arm in eighth grade.”

Hal grinned as he remembered the incident. His mother had not been particularly impressed with having to take him to the emergency room or his explanation for why he had even been on the roof in the first place. Apparently ‘because Jim said I couldn’t do it’ was not a good reason. “That’s true.”

Carol clicked back over, putting the first aid kit down next to Hal. “And I need you on your a game today. There are some students from one of the Wayne Foundation programs aimed at getting more women and people of colour into STEM fields and I want to make a good impression.” she explained as she peeled off Bruce’s dressing.

“Oh cool-”

The damp gauze pad scraped a little as she gently cleaned the already healing, thanks to Diana’s balm, skin. “You and the others are going to be letting them shadow you for the day, showing them the ropes and the like.”

Hal looked up at her in shock. “What? When did this happen? Why do I have to do it?”

“_Because_,” Carol said, tossing the gauze aside for a new piece, “you left me to go alone to that god awful gala Luthor threw.”

“I was in the hospital.”

“Because you were being an idiot.” Carol said. “I got called ‘doll’ and ‘sweetheart’ so much I nearly gouged my eyeballs out with my soup spoon.”

Hal winced. “So I take it we’re not getting any Luthor contracts any time soon?”

Carol sighed and didn’t say anything, finishing up the cream she was putting on the burn and taping a new pad in place. “The Board and I have a meeting to discuss that. They’re eager to get in bed with Luthor, so to speak, his being a gross sleezeball notwithstanding.”

“You have fun with that.” Hal said, shrugging his arms back into his jumpsuit and zipping it up.

The sink turned on as Carol washed her hands. “That’s why I need you and the others to step up today. The meeting is this morning and I won’t have time to spend time with them until after lunch. They’re young kids and lord knows we need more women in leadership positions.”

“Aw c’mon, Carol!” Hal whined. He was supposed to be running flights today, not babysitting a bunch of teenagers.

“None of your complaining, Hal Jordan.” Carol said primly. “Now hurry up, they’ll be arriving soon.”

“But the Queen Enterprises-”

“Pushed back. I talked to Oliver this morning.”

“But-”

“Nope!” Carol tossed over her shoulder as she clicked out of the locker room.

Hal pouted and then paused as something Carol had said ticked over in his mind. “Did she just say the Wayne Foundation?” he asked himself, turning to look at the door where Carol had disappeared. “She did, didn’t she?”

The locker room was quiet.

“Fuck.”

* * *

Hal eyed the group of giggling, gossiping teenagers and couldn’t see any miniature Bruce Waynes running around. And there were a lot of mini Bruce Waynes in Bruce’s little horde of adopted children.

At least for, at Hal’s last count.

But then, Stephanie wasn’t on the Wikipedia page so who actually knew how many little clones Bruce had running around.

Hal relaxed a little.

None of Bruce’s crazy children would try anything while Hal was at work. Too much risk of something going wrong and someone finding out something they shouldn’t.

“Gosh they’re real small, aren’t they?” Tom said around a mouthful of bagel. “Were we that small at that age?”

Hal eyed a particularly gangly teenager who was more elbows and knees than anything else. “You were. I wasn’t.”

Tom scoffed and elbowed him. “Yeah, yeah, Mr. Jock.” he said good naturedly. “It’s real nice of Bruce Wayne to sponsor all this stuff for them. Nice to see young kids get some opportunities to go far, y’know.”

Bruce Wayne had put Hal through two months of hell with his hordes of uncontrollable children, but even Hal had to agree, the man was generous with his money, especially where it was needed. The list of foundations and charitable organisations Bruce had founded and funded was longer than his list of bat children. “Carol seems to like it too.”

“Well.” Tom shrugged. “I suppose she would. You see how the board treats her, even after all she’s done for Ferris.”

Hal knew that all too well. He hadn’t really got what Carol had been talking about when he was younger, but he did now. One board meeting had been enough for him to see exactly what she had to deal with.

Tom wandered off to collect more toppings for his bagel, very obviously avoiding going too close to the gaggle of teenagers currently being introduced to the flight controllers and mechanics. Much like Hal, the fliers were lingering awkwardly on the sides of the room or deep in eating the catering Carol had organized.

“I feel like I should get hazard pay for this.” Maya muttered to Hal as he joined her at the table, swiping a jam filled donut out of a box. “Teenagers are not my style.”

“They’re not that bad. At least they seem pretty interested and we can warn ‘em off getting sucked into the air force.” Harris chimed in through a mouthful of crackers. “Don’t wanna doom the poor suckers to getting up at five for the daily screaming session.”

Hal snorted. “Careful, Harris, that almost sounded like you disapprove.”

“I spent two hours at the VA yesterday because apparently between now and last month, I’ve magically regrown a fuckin’ leg.” Harris said, rolling his eyes. “I was this close to taking my prosthetic off and throwing it at one of the stupid idiots.”

Maya slunk off to hide behind the kitchen counter and Harris ambled over to frighten the teenagers with his booming voice and prosthetic leg.

Hal ate his donut and piled his plate high with catering food. He hadn’t gone shopping and the only thing he’d eaten all day was one of those cold muffins from the café down the street.

“And what about you, dear?”

“Oh, uh, I’m Duke. Duke Thomas.”

“Duke Thomas… Now why does that name ring a bell…”

“Oh, you’re one of Bruce Wayne’s kids, aren’t you?”

“Ah, yeah, he’s my foster parent, I guess?” the kid was saying. “Just until my parents get better.”

“Oh how lovely, but then Bruce Wayne always was one for taking in children. He has what… four adopted children now?”

“Oh yes and he just found out about that little boy, what’s his name?”

“Damian.”

“Damian, that’s right! He’s a spitting image of Brucie, don’t you think? Such a handsome little boy…”

The rest of the conversation faded into the background as Hal realized what the kid had just said. Foster parent. _Bruce Wayne._

When he did, he froze, donut halfway to his mouth.

Hal whipped around, staring at the teenager in the middle of the gaggle of prospective interns, hands in his pockets as he listened to whatever it was the traffic controllers were saying.

This one didn’t look a thing like Bruce, but that didn’t mean anything, seeing as apparently Bruce now had _two_ children that weren’t on his Wikipedia page, if he was including Stephanie, as well as the other four that appeared under his name.

He should have seen it coming. Wayne Foundation, Ferris Air- _of course_ one of the batbrats would tag along.

This had to be planned. For what, Hal still didn’t know but it was looking more and more likely that this actually _was_ a plot to have Hal die of a stress related heart attack. What other reason could there be for Bruce’s children to keep stalking him everywhere?

With that in mind, Hal swiped another donut for his plate and booked it down the hallway.

He scuttled out of the breakroom and took the stairs back up to the offices two at a time. He would have hidden in the locker rooms, but Carol would know where he was then so instead, Hal ducked into Carol’s office and into her private bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Hal waited a moment, almost expecting Duke Thomas or whatever his name was to bust down the door and attack Hal with a cow.

But nothing happened so Hal relaxed and made himself comfortable on the sink, munching on his stolen food. The donuts were really quite good and the large selection of cheese, ham and crackers he had taken would do him quite nicely for a morning snack.

* * *

“Harold Martin Jordan!”

Hal woke with a start at the very loud, very familiar sound of Carol yelling. He sat up from where he had been napping on the floor of Carol’s office’s private bathroom, wincing.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He only meant to rest his eyes for a few moments.

There was a bang from Carol’s office door slamming open.

A moment later, Carol pounded on the bathroom door. “Harold! I know you’re in there!” she hissed through the door. “Stop hiding!”

“I’m not hiding.” Hal insisted, wondering how much she would yell if he climbed out the window again. “Hey, you didn’t tell that kid who I was did you?”

“What?” Carol hissed and there was a thump, presumably as she kicked the door. “Hal, get out the bathroom and stop being an idiot!”

“Only if you promise not to yell at me.”

“I’m already yelling at you and you’ll be lucky if I don’t call your mother!” Carol hissed.

The worst part was, Hal couldn’t even call her bluff because Carol _would_ call his mother and then his mother would call Hal to tell him how disappointed she was and then she would call Jim and Jim would call Hal and after the past few months, it was not something he had the patience for. “Alright, alright, calm down.”

“Hal…” Carol warned.

Hal opened the door to Carol standing outside, arms folded and eyes blazing with fury. “I was just resting my eyes.”

Carol closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “One day…” she murmured, “one day, I’m going to kill you.” she said before grabbing his arm and dragging him out of her bathroom.

“Nah, you’d miss me too much.”

Carol ignored him as she pushed him out of her office and shooed him down the hallway, walking alongside him. She looked a little harried and Hal guessed she had just come from the meeting she was supposed to have with the Board. “You were supposed to be showing those kids around,” she scolded, “I asked for one thing, Hal!”

“You don’t understand, it’s one of the kids, he’s a plant from Bruce to send-”

“Shut up.” Carol snapped as they walked. “There’s a kid who wants to meet you and because you bailed on me at Luthor’s gala and now today, you’re going to spend the entire afternoon with him, you’re going to show him around, put him in the cockpit of one of the Raptors, feed him, answers his questions- hell you’re even going to do his goddamn homework if he wants, got it?!” she barked, cheeks red.

“Carol, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I am actually being serious, one of the kids is-”

“I don’t care.” Carol said sharply, turning on him as they stepped outside onto the tarmac. “I just got told to get fucking coffee for a bunch of pompous, overpaid white men who think they know everything-”

Hal put a hand on Carol’s shoulder, turning her away from the small knot of teenagers and Ferris Air staff making their way across to one of the hangars.

She scowled, swiping at her eyes angrily. “So fucking stupid.” she muttered.

Hal held out his arm and she dabbed at her eyes carefully with the sleeve of his flightsuit. “I know I am.” he said. “I’m sorry. I fucked up, Care-bear, that’s on me.”

“You’re damn right it is.” Carol growled, tossing her hair out of her eyes. “So I just need you to go out there and charm those kids for one afternoon. It took me months to get the Board to agree and I need it to go off without a hitch so we can get spend approval for the apprenticeship program.”

Hal felt terrible. He honestly hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he had, and Carol quite clearly needed him that morning and he wasn’t there. “Okay.” he said seriously. “I’ll do the best damn job I can. We’ll get approval for the apprenticeship program and I’ll go to Luthor’s next gala and steal his date out from under his nose for you.”

Carol let out a loud huff, a smile appearing for a brief second. “God, I hate crying.”

Hal didn’t say anything, just patted her head like he used to do when they were kids.

She swatted him away, back to her normal, composed self. “Come on, you’ve kept him waiting long enough with your little trick.” she said, starting across the tarmac again, towards the hangars where they kept the simulator they used to help out NASA with their test runs.

Hal’s stomach sank when they walked through the doors and there was the Bruce Wayne foster kid, standing by the simulator, holding onto the straps of his backpack.

_Of course._

“This is Duke.” Carol said, elbowing Hal. “He’s part of the Wayne Foundation group and he was really interested in meeting you.” she said.

Hal couldn’t back out now. He’d made Carol cry and he didn’t even need his mother to call him to make him feel bad about that. So he stuck his hand out with a smile. “Hi Duke, Hal Jordan, nice to meet you.”

Duke smiled. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Jordan.” he said, shaking Hal’s hand.

Carol patted Hal’s shoulder with a stern look. “I’ll let you two get going- Duke was saying he wanted a look at the Raptors.”

Hal smiled thinly as she walked away. “Alright!” he said cheerily. “Let’s go at the planes, shall we?”

* * *

Fifteen minutes into Hal’s introduction to the Raptor, complete with letting the kid clamber all over the wings and sit in the cockpit with Hal’s helmet on, Hal was beginning to get the impression the kid wasn’t all that interested.

“You don’t actually care about this stuff, do you?” Hal asked finally, eyeing the teenager peering at one of the wheels with a look of bored curiosity on his face.

Duke straightened. “No! I do! Uh…”

Hal shook his head. “Let me guess, the bet and you needed to meet me for yourself?”

At least Duke had the grace to look a little bit ashamed his oh so clever plan had been figured out. None of the others had a shameful bone in their body from what Hal had seen. “Bit a pattern, huh?”

Hal sighed and sat down on one of the toolboxes. “Little bit.”

“Well… It runs in the family?” Duke tried, taking a careful seat next to Hal.

“Yeah, well at least you didn’t insult my interior decorating or steal my food.” Hal muttered. “In comparison, kid, you’re my favourite so far.”

That got a funny little smile out of Duke. “Cool.” he decided, before, “Can I ask you a question?” he asked abruptly.

Hal couldn’t exactly say no, now could he. “Uh- Sure.”

“Say you’ve got someone you really like, and you want to take them out on a date… what would you do?"

“Me?” Hal said, a little bit thrown by the sudden change of subject and the subject matter. He had never really given dating advice outside of ‘it’s lower down than you think’ and ‘use more lube than you think you need’. He had certainly never given any advice on dating.

Hal didn’t really _do_ dating anymore. It wasn't exactly easy when you were a space cop that also needed to pay rent.

“Uh. Well…” he said, trying to think what he used to do when he had time to date instead of just hooking up with randoms on Tinder.

Duke set his backpack down and opened it up, pulling out a battered silver and black tin lunchbox.

It was sort of cute, seeing a teenager open up a neatly packed lunch, complete with crackers, chopped carrots and celery, sandwiches and a piece of fruit. Very elementary school. “It’s um… it really depends on who you’re taking out, I suppose.”

Duke kicked his backpack aside carelessly. "What if they're really special to you? Like... they make you smile when you don't normally."

Hal scratched his head. "Well... If you’re really trying to wow them, then showing up with a bouquet of their favourite flowers, if that’s their thing. If it’s not, then I always found that their favourite dessert from an expensive bakery worked too.” he said, remembering how well that had always gone down with Carol. Maybe he should get her dessert to make up for his blunder today.

“Oh, _dessert_. That’s a good one.” Duke said through a mouthful of carrot before yanking out his phone and tapping away on it. “So you _don’t_ like flowers?”

“It depends on the other person.” Hal said again, not really sure why Duke was even asking him for dating advice. The last person Hal dated was an alien and she tried to eat him after he said he wasn't physically capable of incubating her eggs. “If they like flowers, you take ‘em flowers. If they don’t, you take the dessert.”

“So you do like flowers?” Duke asked, squinting in confusion.

Hal wasn’t really sure where the kid was going with all of this. “As much as anyone does, I suppose?” he said, accepting the little quarter of sandwich Duke offered him.

Duke tapped more things on his phone. “So…” he started, staring at it with the same look Jim used to get when Hal tried to explain how math worked, “what would _your_ ideal first date look like? Like where would you go and stuff.”

“What are we? Teenage girls?” Hal joked.

Duke raised an eyebrow at him. “Men can enjoy dates too, you know.” he said, a little bit judgingly.

“No I just meant…” Hal sighed when he saw Duke’s cool expression. “I don’t know, kid. I’ve never really thought about it. I don’t get taken out on first dates; I take other people out on first dates.”

Duke hummed, crunching a cracker thoughtfully. “No one’s ever taken you out on a date before? It’s always been you taking them out?” he asked after a moment.

Hal scratched his head, thinking back on the people he had dated and seen over the years. Now that he was thinking about it, it had always been him doing the planning and asking, not that he minded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Interesting.” Duke said, staring at Hal with narrow eyes.

Hal didn’t know what was interesting about that at all.

Duke stared at him for a moment longer before picking up his phone again and tapping something out at lightning speed.

Hal inched away.

He had forgotten that the kid was actually one of Bruce’s and therefore, probably a mastermind. He had seemed so normal it had thrown Hal for a moment.

“Alright, spit it out. You didn’t come here to ask me for dating advice, so lay it on me.” Hal said, folding his arms, waiting for Duke to start speaking in riddles like the rest of them.

Duke stared at him blankly for a few moments.

Hal had more intimidating stare offs with a drunk Guy Gardner. He wondered if any of the batkids remembered that he was just as battle hardened as their crazy dad.

Duke sagged. “Jay asked me to make sure Tim wasn’t going to cheat and in return, I asked Jay to cut me in with him and Steph.” he explained sheepishly.

“Cheat on the bet?” Hal asked before realizing that the batbrats had probably started the bet on who would be the one to finally get him to crack. Which didn’t bode well for his heart. Or his sanity.

“Tim’s the most competitive person I’ve ever met- not that you would know it, talking to him.” Duke explained.

Hal had to think back to the time he had read Bruce’s Wikipedia page. There had been a Tim mentioned there- something about being the youngest CEO ever or whatever.

“And Jay, Steph and I bet on a faster… uh… timeline,” Duke said, looking shifty as he glanced at Hal, “and Tim and Dick bet on a slower one so they’re both going to do whatever they can to delay things.”

“Delay what?” Hal asked innocently, hoping to catch the kid off guard. He seemed a bit green and from what the kid had said himself earlier in the morning, his time with the bat family seemed like a fairly recent development.

“Delay you and Bruc- Oh!” Duke grinned at Hal, shaking his head. “That was close, but no can do, Mr. Jordan. I can’t tell you, or we all lose, and then we have to give the whole pot to Alfred.”

The butler was in on it too?! That explained the weird looks and comments he was making at Hal when he was at Bruce’s manbatcave.

“And I love Alf, I do, but I’ve heard Dick’s original uniform is a sight to behold. And I want to see it.” Duke explained with a wide smile. “If he and Tim are going to cheat, then so are we.”

Hal was having trouble keeping them all straight. And it wasn’t as if he could assign faces to names since Dick and Tim, according to Bruce’s Wikipedia page, looked like literal clones of each other. And if you added in Damian and the other one Jerry or whatever, then there were at least four mini Bruce lookalikes running around. “So do I need to worry about being ambushed by another one of you?” he asked tiredly, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Genuinely.

Truly, he didn’t know what he had done to Bruce that warranted this. It was one op and Hal apologised for it.

“Oh no, you don’t have to worry about that..” Duke said, waving his hands. “Tim was actually meant to come today as a sort of spokesperson from Wayne Enterprises, but he may have _accidentally_ ended up in Ohio.”

Hal blanched. “Ohio?” he repeated, completely and utterly bewildered by the nonchalant way Duke had just said that.

Duke nodded again, a shit eating grin on his face. “He’s not very coherent in the mornings and I knew he was going to sleep on the plane so I just… encouraged him to get on the wrong one.”

“Of course.” Hal said, clearing his throat. Oh to be the son of a billionaire and have the disposable income to send another sibling to another state without blinking. The best prank he had ever pulled was dyeing Jim blue and then locking him out of the house naked. “As you do.”

“He’s going to know it was me,” Duke continued, tapping his chin and then as if that was a preplanned cue, which Hal wasn’t so sure it wasn’t at this point, Duke’s phone lit up and started vibrating across the desk.

They both stared at it.

_Tim Drake-Wayne_

“Are you going to-”

Duke made a face and declined the call. “That uniform and the bowl cut better be worth it.” he muttered to himself. “So back to the dating thing, what would your ideal first date be?”

Hal couldn’t keep up. Not with how many kids Bruce had, not with how utterly bewildering all of them were, not with anything. “I… Why?”

Duke shrugged. “I’m researching.”

That made Hal pause. Between the fact that this bet had fucking timelines and now that five of Bruce’s children were doing so-called ‘research’ into him, Hal was genuinely beginning to think that Bruce was _actually_ trying to kill him.

Before he had really only thought Bruce was just trying to annoy him by setting his brats on him and that eventually Hal would snap, they would fight again, and Diana would send them both to the corner and that would be that.

But now?

With kiddo number whatever ambushing him at work and asking about his dating preferences?

They were trying to make it look like an accident. He was probably going to choke on a piece of poisoned crab or get impaled on roses or something.

“Mr. Jordan?”

* * *

Hal tore through his cupboards, searching for the fancy wooden chopping board Dinah had bought for him as a house warming gift. He normally kept it in the weird board holder thing on the counter Carol had bought, but for some reason or another, he must have moved it because he couldn't find it anywhere.

Opening another cupboard, Hal blinked in bewilderment at the row of cups staring back at him.

Hal picked one of the cups up, looking at it in confusion. He didn’t recognise them at all, but the style screamed Carol. “Are these mine?” he asked himself, scratching his head as he flipped the cup over and found some Italian sounding name. “Did I buy these?

He looked back at the cupboard and the cups, at a loss. He could have sworn he put his plates and bowls in this cupboard, for easy access when he did actually cook.

Hal set the cup down and opened another cupboard experimentally. It wouldn’t be unlike him to put his stuff away wherever it would fit and then forget about it.

His blender stared back at him, along with all of the plastic containers Barry had foisted on him.

Hal stared for a few moments; mouth open as he tried to come up with an explanation. “Don’t you live in the pantry?” he asked the blender.

It didn’t answer.

Hal’s phone buzzed on the counter and he looked down at it, seeing, shockingly enough, that _Bruce_ was calling him.

He eyed it warily and then at the magically moving blender.

“Stay.” he said to the blender before swiping his phone off the counter. Rubbing his chin, Hal debated on answering the phone but given that he only had a few minutes before he needed to run over to Carol’s in order to set up the dinner he had bought as an apology, he really didn’t have time.

It was rather satisfying, Hal had to admit, hanging up on Bruce Wayne.

* * *

Hal stared at his toothbrush, sitting alone in its cup on the counter.

_Again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah it's bad.  
I've been in a not so great place the last few months (read nine lmaooo) and my writing is just shit rn  
Anyway, Tim is up next and let me tell you, it's a doozy  
well  
the idea behind it is, not sure about the execution at this point.


	6. Red Robin (and Robin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal’s apartment is out to get him.
> 
> Tim does his best impression of Bruce.
> 
> Damian has something to say about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -gets furloughed-  
Me: I know! I'll write my fanfictions  
Also me: plays the sims for six hours straight
> 
> I hope you're all safe and healthy in these trying times. Enjoy this garbage in the meantime.

“Hal?”

Hal looked up from his cup of shitty coffee.

Barry visibly recoiled, holding a plate piled high with burritos. He set the plate down on the table and took a seat next to Hal. “Are you okay?” he asked, putting his hand on Hal’s shoulder. “Cause you look like hell.”

Hal rubbed his eyes and sipped his terrible, burnt coffee. “I’m going insane, Barry.” he whispered, hunching his shoulders. He half expected another bat themed vigilante to spring out of somewhere and hit him over the head with something bat shaped.

“Is it the Guardians again?” Barry asked. “You’re not having trouble managing Ferris and all the Lantern stuff? You’re making rent okay? Is it the VA?”

Hal wished it was any of those things. Those things he could handle, he knew how to handle. “I’m being stalked.” he grouched angrily, and it pissed him off because _he_, the Earth’s Greatest Hero, was being tortured by children.

He was be harassed.

He was being stalked.

He was being tormented.

By children.

_Children_.

“Stalked?!” Barry squawked indignantly. His hand tightened and he shook Hal a little. “Hal! Why didn’t you tell anyone sooner? How long has this been going on?”

Hal sipped his coffee, wincing at the burn on his tongue as Barry kept rambling in indignant outrage on Hal’s behalf.

“We should tell Bruce and Cyborg- they’ll be able to get more information on whoever it is- Do you have any idea who it is- is it someone who knows who you are or-”

“It’s Bruce’s kids.” Hal hissed darkly.

“Is it Sinest-” Barry stopped, mouth open, expression bewildered. “Did you just say it was _Bruce’s kids_?”

“They’re like a bunch of wild animals!” Hal exploded, sloshing his coffee everywhere. “They break into my house in the middle of the night, watch me sleep, move my shit- I’ve bought _six_ tubes of toothpaste in the last two weeks and they keep disappearing!”

Barry blinked, mouth opening. “… What?”

Hal buried his head in his hands. “They’re all insane, Barry. Two of them got into a fight in my house last night and now there’s a fucking batarang in my fridge-”

* * *

TWO WEEKS AGO

Hal searched his drawer for the tube of toothpaste he knew he had tossed into it. Only there was no toothpaste in the drawer, or any of his bathroom cupboards or in his cup holder.

“I know I bought it.” Hal said in defeat, raising his hands to his head as he stared at his toothbrush in the cupholder. “I did, didn’t I?”

He distinctly remembered buying it.

The old guy who ran the corner store had commented on how much toothpaste Hal was going through.

Hal had been sure it was there that morning. He had just used it before heading off to work.

He yanked open the drawer again, upending it over the sink and watching all of his junk clatter out. His razor, extra toothbrush, the floss he never used, a spoon, a set of bandaids.

But no toothpaste.

“What the fuck.” Hal said, hands on his hips. “Where the hell did I put it?”

TEN DAYS AGO

Hal hummed, tongue between his teeth as he eyed his takeout excitedly. He had gotten Chinese and the nice lady had given him extra spring rolls and he couldn’t wait to chow down on them.

He shouldered open the door, trying to keep his drink balanced on the top of his boxes. The apartment was dark, but his eyes were good enough. Kicking the door shut, he wandered through the hallway, dodging around the as yet, unpacked furniture, and into the living area.

Hal yelped when his shin slammed into something hard and sharp and he toppled over with a loud crash and the screech of wood across tiles. He got all tangled up with whatever it was he had tripped on, the hard edge of it slamming into the tops of his thighs.

His dinner, keys and drink went flying when he threw his hands out to catch himself on the floor.

Swearing Hal kicked whatever it was he had tripped on and used the Ring to light up the room.

What he saw made him squint in confusion.

Somehow, in the half an hour he was gone, his coffee table had managed to migrate out from in front of the couch to sit smack bang in the center of the walkway between the island counter and the couch.

“What in the- how did you get over here?” Hal asked the dinged up table in confusion, looking around.

Hal scratched his head in confusion, and then remembered his Chinese. Spinning around, Hal groaned and sagged in defeat when he saw his delicious dinner was all over the floor. His roast pork and Asian greens made a sad little mess on the tiles and his can of coke had exploded all over his paper bag of spring rolls.

“Aw, goddamn it.”

A WEEK AGO

“I’m telling you Carol, something weirds goin’ on.” Hal said, jamming his phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled the fourth toothpaste in a week, out of its box, dropping the plastic bag on the ground. “I’ve stubbed my toe on like four different things this week alone and when I look, everything’s suddenly moved an inch to the left or something!”

“Hal.” Carol whined. “It’s five am.”

Hal squeezed some toothpaste onto his toothbrush. “I have cups now, Carol.” he said. “Like, coffee cups. I don’t know where the fuck they came from. But I have them.”

Carol sighed. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“And my toothpaste-”

“Goodbye, Hal.”

Hal pouted at his phone and jammed his toothbrush into his mouth, brushing away grumpily. Over the past week or so he had bought so many god damn tubes of toothpaste only for it to go missing as soon as he turned his back.

The cashier at the little grocer shop was starting to get concerned with how much he was buying.

And so was Hal.

Hal spat and rinsed his toothbrush, dropping back into his cup. The toothpaste tube sat there innocently, as if it hadn’t been the reason he was losing sleep. “Stay.” he said to it.

It didn’t move.

“Stupid fuckin’ toothpaste,” he muttered, picking up his phone and ambling back into his bedroom. He had started the day off so well, as well, he hadn’t woken up from nightmares, he had been on a run, made breakfast and then gone in to have a shower and brush his teeth, only to find his toothpaste missing.

Again.

Between this and the fact that his furniture was apparently conspiring to injure him via his little toe, Hal wasn’t having a good week.

Actually, he wasn’t having a good month, what with Bruce trying to kill him.

FOUR DAYS AGO

Hal was pretty sure he was going insane.

He was standing in his kitchen, eating cereal out of a cup because he couldn’t find his damn bowls anywhere, and as he was eating, he noticed that there was something funny about the bookshelf.

And that found him standing in front of it, mug of cereal in hand, eyeing it suspiciously.

Nothing jumped out at him as immediately wrong.

But there was a niggle at the back of his mind that there was something off about it. It looked… wrong somehow, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. His knick knacks from space were still there, and his books and the unused box sets Jim kept getting him for Christmas.

So what in the Hell was wrong with it?

Hal leaned closer, squinting suspiciously at the books. They looked normal but there was just something bothering him about it.

Taking a bite of his cereal, Hal stepped back, tilting his head to look at the bookshelf from a different perspective.

It looked fine.

But that was what was wrong with it.

Hal groaned and leaned back to fall onto the sofa.

He stumbled when the back of his knees didn’t hit the edge of it, like he had expected, and he flailed awkwardly before he fell onto it rather ungracefully, spilling his mug of cereal down his front.

The sofa screeched as it slid backwards, and Hal groaned again when he saw the scratch marks it had left across the tile.

It was only then that he noticed his rug had been moved to the side slight, leaving the sofa off of it and on the bare tiles.

Hal dropped his head onto the back of the couch, exhausted. Between his crockery turning up in places it wasn’t supposed to be, the toothpaste going walkabouts and his furniture moving just enough to be a nuisance but not enough to notice at a first glance, Hal wasn’t getting much peace.

“I’m a good person.” he whined as his milk soaked into his shirt.

LAST NIGHT

Hal eyed his toothpaste blearily, narrowing his eyes skeptically when he saw it hadn’t moved. He pointed at it threateningly, “I’m watching you.” he warned.

There was a bang from in the living area.

Hal glowered at the toothpaste for a moment longer and when he deemed it sufficiently cowed, crept back into his bedroom. He had kept the lights off, because he had just woken up to check on his toothpaste, so it made it easy to ease open his bedroom door and slip out into the lounge.

Nothing seemed amiss and the Ring detected no hostile presences in the immediate vicinity.

Hal slipped around wall, peeking into the living area.

The lounge looked empty, as did the kitchen.

Hal crept into the living room, slipping around the sofa carefully. He had moved it back into position after the debacle with the bookshelf and so far, it didn’t seem inclined to move again.

“I’m over here.”

Hal yelped and jumped damn near a foot in the air, smacking the top of his foot on the underside of the coffee table. Spinning around, he shone a light at his kitchen and sure enough, there was a person there, crouched on top of his cabinets like an overgrown gargoyle. “Jesus-” he gasped, nearly tripping over the coffee table when he stumbled back in shock for a second time, heart stuttering in his chest. “For fucks sake- _don’t do that_!” he snapped.

Bat child number six stared at him through white lenses. While not nearly as creepy as Black Bird or whatever her name had been, it was still eerie having an unmoving person perched on top of his cabinets like something out of the Exorcist.

Hal clicked his tongue. Bruce’s kids were creepy, but Hal had dealt with scarier things than a bunch of Stephen King-esque murder children. “Get down off there before you fall.” he said with a scowl.

He kept his ring trained on him though.

They were a bit like spiders, always appearing out of nowhere and damn near impossible to get rid of. And now that Hal knew they were trying to kill him, either by poison if Duke’s admission was anything to go by, or by stress-induced heart attack, he couldn’t take any chances.

“Well? Don’t make me get you down.” Hal growled. “Because I’ll drop you in the middle of the Pacific and leave you there.”

“No you won’t.” Gargoyle boy said quietly, quite assured but not arrogantly. He relaxed and sat down on the cabinets, swinging his legs against the doors. “You don’t kill. I heard it’s because the Ring doesn’t let you- Is that true?”

Definitely one of Bruce’s. Hal wasn’t even sure how Bruce knew that, since it wasn’t something he or any of the other Lanterns had advertised. “Get off there. What it is with you lot and getting all over my furniture anyway? Do you have an aversion to the floor?”

“No, just the world’s longest game of the floor is lava.”

Hal stopped and scowled, begrudgingly impressed by the clever quip. “Get off my cabinets.” he grumbled, stomping into the kitchen. He needed something to cool off and having the rest of the leftovers from Carol’s place sounded like just the ticket.

Gargoyle boy dropped down to the counter and then to the floor with barely a sound. “We have some things to discuss-”

Hal moved the vigilante out of the way of the fridge. He was smaller than Hal had first thought, not just short, but skinny too, so it wasn’t hard for Hal to pick him up and set him out of the way.

“_Excuse me_.”

“You don’t get to be offended when you broke into my house.” Hal grumbled, looking through the fridge to find the cold stir fry. Thankfully, in the two or three hours since he had put it in there, it had mysteriously moved. “Alright then, Gargoyle boy, what?”

The vigilante looked offended by Hal’s name for him. “Red Robin.” he corrected with the tone of an irritated teenager.

“Right.” Hal said, digging around in his cutlery drawer for a fork. All he was coming up with was teaspoons though and he was too tired to try and figure out why that would be. So he simply gave up and resigned himself to eating his snack with a tiny spoon.

Red Robin folded his arms, drawing Hal’s attention to the ‘RR’ on his chest, in the same sort of design as Robin’s sigil.

That explained the name.

“I’m here to tell you that you need to stay away from Batman.”

Hal stared at his stir fry blankly as the words processed. “_I_ need to stay away from Batman?” he demanded after a moment. “He’s the one who set his hordes of children on me! I have done nothing to him, ever, in my life.”

Red Robin stared at him. “We both know that’s a lie.”

Hal spluttered indignantly, shoving a bite of stir fry into his mouth angrily.

“As you know,” Red Robin said diplomatically, “there is a bet between my family and I. A bet that I intend to win and to do that, I need you to work with me and stay away from Batman for two months. No more texting, no more calling, no more meals.”

Hal squinted, trying to figure out how staying _away_ from Bruce would benefit Bruce in killing Hal. Maybe Bruce was just setting up his alibi.

“If you agree to do that, I’ll let you sleep.” Red Robin said nonchalantly. “And I’ll return your apartment to the way it was before, toothpaste included. I’ll even reimburse you for the added expense of said toothpaste.”

It took a moment for Hal to realise what the pint sized vigilante had just said. “Excuse me?” he asked.

Red Robin was blank faced. It was eerie how much he looked like Bruce, doing that. “It’s a simple request.”

Hal ignored him, remembering the ruined Chinese takeout, the missing bowls, his rearranged bookshelf, the sixty dollars he had spent on toothpaste, the countless times he had walked into or stubbed his toe on furniture that just happened to move. He knew he hadn’t been going insane when he had told Carol about how his apartment was out to get him.

“I can’t lose this bet, okay?” Red Robin said as Hal stared at his stir fry in horror. “I had a bowl cut when I was eleven and I looked like a pencil eraser. And Batgirl said I had to give up instant noodles for a month. I can’t do that. I won’t.”

Where in the hell was Bruce finding these kids? It couldn’t be normal, having so many of them display such stalkerish tendencies. First there was Black Bird and her following him around for weeks on end, and now this.

Hal was the Green Lantern and he wasn’t afraid of anything but even he couldn’t punch a bunch of children and get away with it. Especially not since those children were the kids of the richest man on the planet.

This was the most elaborate assassination plot Hal had ever heard of. And he had been the target of six different assassination attempts in four different star systems.

“Do you know how long I spent in front of my bookshelf thinking I was going insane?!” Hal demanded.

Red Robin didn’t even blink. “So work with me here, Captain. Stay away from Batman until June and your apartment will be back to normal.” he said. “I play to win, and they didn’t I say I couldn’t cheat.”

Hal gaped. God, now they were competing over who got to off him first. While not the most horrifying thing anyone had said about wanting him dead, it was particularly horrifying coming from a bunch of pipsqueaks that dressed up like stepford children in the daytime.

“Because if I lose to Hood again,” Red Robin said, “I will actually die.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic about this?” Hal asked, not sure if he should be concerned or not.

“That’s because you’ve never met him.” Red Robin said hotly. “Just once, just once, I want to be able to rub it in his face that he lost. You have older brothers, right? You know what it’s like.”

“Yeah but we never made bets about wanting to kill people.” Hal said.

“Exactly, so you know what I’m-” the vigilante froze, cutting off mid-sentence and he looked up at Hal in confusion. “You think we want to kill you?” he asked after a pregnant pause.

Hal wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a trick question or not, but he never got the opportunity to ask because Red Robin ducked suddenly, and Hal only got the impression of something flying by before there were five tiny little ‘R’ shaped stars sticking out of his cupboard.

“Traitor!”

Hal yelped and just managed to restrain himself from punching when _Damian_ came flying out of the darkness at Red Robin.

Red Robin caught a booted foot on his arm. “Robin?!” he hissed. “What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be in Gotham!”

Damian bounced away, landing on the island counter. “What are _you_ doing here?!” he parroted furiously, pointing at Red Robin accusingly.

“Nothing!”

“You’re interfering again, aren’t you!?” Damian insisted, drawing himself up in a righteous rage, or at least, as much as a twelve year old the size of a hamster, could.

“It’s not interfering, it’s making sure I win!” Red Robin hissed, flapping a hand at his younger brother. “How did you even get here? You were supposed to be with Nightwing-”

Damian narrowed his eyes at the other vigilante. “I saw through your inane ruse immediately, traitor! And Nightwing’s! I have already dealt with him and now all that is left is to deal with you!”

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic.” Red Robin complained, rolling his eyes. “It’s two months, Robin, it’s fine-”

Damian went purple so quickly Hal was concerned about his heart. “No, no, no!” the twelve year old exploded, stomping his foot.

Hal was at his wits end. There were two pipsqueaks arguing in his kitchen at two am and he was pretty sure both of them were planning on trying to kill him. “Maybe we should just-”

“You’re ruining everything!” Damian continued, voice only growing louder. “Father spent so long setting up the dates only for Brown and Dick to ruin them and now you and the rest of the imbeciles in this family are going to scare Captain Jordan away and Father will never be able to tell him his feelings-”

Red Robin lunged over the kitchen island in a blur of red, tackling Damian to the ground with a loud bang.

“Jesus Christ!” Hal yelped, dropping his bowl on the counter and scrambling around the island to see if they were okay. They might be trying to kill him, but if one of them got hurt, then Diana would actually, _legitimately_ kill him. And he might feel bad.

Hal nearly got an elbow to throat when Red Robin popped up suddenly, holding a squirming Damian to his chest. “Robin _do not_ lose this for me!” he hissed furiously, hand over Damian’s mouth “He can’t know or we all lose-”

Damian let out a muffled bellow and thrashed violently, going bright red with rage.

Hal ducked under another flying foot, reaching out to try and separate the two before it could devolve into an actual fight. The last thing he needed right now was to get a noise complaint and get evicted. “Hey, hey, hey-”

“Ugh!” Red Robin yelped, yanking his hand away from Damian’s mouth and shaking it out in disgust. “Robin, no biting!”

“Unhand me, cretin!” Damian protested loudly, kicking even more violently.

Hal caught a foot and used it to drag the squabbling boys closer. “Both of you, calm down!”

“I am calm!” Red Robin insisted, stumbling back because of Damian’s violent kicking and thrashing. “Rob, it’s only for a few months- it will be fine!”

“It will not!” Damian shouted and opened his mouth wide.

Hal saw it coming a mile away and lurched forward, letting go of Damian’s foot to grab his shoulder and Red Robin’s arm to physically pull them apart. “Whoa, hey- No biting!” he shouted but it was too late, and Damian sunk his teeth into Red Robin’ arm, right in the soft spot where there was no armour plating.

All hell broke loose.

Red Robin screeched and shoved Damian away from him, shaking his arm violently to try and dislodge the smaller boy. His flailing sent all three of them crashing into the side table next to the couch and it collapsed under their combined weight in a loud groan of splintering wood.

Hal rolled automatically, so as not to crush either of the boys, still trying to pull Damian off. But it was like trying to fight with a bulldog, the kid was well and truly latched on.

They rolled around, wrestling now and it honestly looked as if Damian was winning.

Hal lurched after them before they could make a victim out of his TV. He needed that.

Someone lashed out, Hal didn’t know who, and the next thing he knew he had been kicked solidly in the balls.

He grunted, wind knocked out of him and vision going white with pain for a few seconds.

Staggering, Hal groped for anything to hold onto, knees buckling under him. He felt the wood of the coffee table under his hand and clung to it, trying not to vomit.

Vaguely he could hear the two boys fighting and squabbling but honestly it was all background noise compared to the complete and utter agony of his crushed nuts. He clutched the edge of the coffee table, stomach roiling and bolts of pain lancing up his torso.

Wheezing, Hal finally lost the battle with his knees and sank to the ground, pressing his forehead against the cool wood of his shitty coffee table.

“What did I just say about biting, Robin?!”

“A warrior’s body is a weapon and I will use every weapon available to me!”

“On enemies, Robin!”

“You _are_ the enemy!”

This was how Hal Jordan died. From a stress related heart attack and crushed nuts.

God he hoped Carol would say something nice at his funeral.

There was another crash and something that didn’t sound like English. Death had not taken him yet and if it wasn’t going to, then Hal needed to get up and stop the pipsqueaks from destroying his apartment.

He didn’t have any money for an eviction. Or repairs.

Groaning, Hal opened his eyes and looked up.

The two little monsters were rolling around on the ground, fighting in almost complete silence. Honestly, in the dark it was difficult to tell the two of them apart and Hal had no idea who was winning.

There was a gleam of silver as Damian wrenched out the sword he had sheathed over his shoulder, deflecting whatever it was that Red Robin tossed at him with a loud clang.

Hal yelped and ducked under a batarang, turning around just in time to see it lodge itself firmly in his fridge. “My deposit!”

Neither Damian nor Red Robin seemed to care that they were destroying his apartment. Probably because Bruce was so rich that anything they broke he could just replace without blinking.

But Hal was not rich.

And quite frankly, he had been extraordinarily patient the last few months. _Especially_ for him, since he would rather solve his problems with punching first and then talking later. But it would be a bad look if Hal Jordan went around and started punching Bruce Wayne’s kids.

“Enough!” Hal commanded, wrenching the two of them apart with the Ring and restraining them with matching hand constructs. He made sure to restrain them tightly enough that there was no way to get out of it, unless one of them was a secret Kryptonian. “I don’t know what the _hell _is going on here, but I am _done_ with it.”

Damian went limp, staring at Hal, mouth open. “W-what? No!”

Red Robin bit down on his lip. “Oh man we are in so much-”

Damian snarled something that was definitely Arabic, brandishing his little baby sword at Red Robin ferociously.

Hal wrenched it off him before he could take out a ceiling light. “Stop that.” he snapped, creating a green sheath made out of bubble wrap to carry the sword in. “Who even gave you a sword in the first place?”

“It’s a family heirloom-”

“Oh it’s a family heirloom now!” Red Robin mocked, throwing his arms up. He squawked indignantly a moment later when Hal let his construct fade into a strait jacket.

Damian’s cheeks went a splotchy red and he kicked his feet furiously, the only part of himself he could move in his own strait jacket. “Captain, wait-”

“No. No more chances.” Hal snapped, slapping green duct tape over their mouths. He had had _enough_ of Bruce and these ridiculous, boundary stomping, intrusive children. “I’m taking you both home and putting an end to this _now_.”

* * *

Hal was running on pure frustration and cold stir fry by the time he got to Gotham with his captive assassins.

He wasn’t annoyed enough to barge right on up to the manor, but he didn’t wait for Bruce’s fancy scanners to verify his identity and unlock the Cave entrance. Instead he just pried open the fancy blast doors with a good old crowbar construct and flew in. “Oi Spooky,” he bellowed, “I think you dropped something!”

Bruce was standing by his stupidly large computer and he frowned at Hal. “Do you know how expensive those blast doors were-”

“Shut up.” Hal snapped, releasing Damian and Red Robin from their strait jackets and dropping them both on Bruce’s head. “Keep your damn brats on a leash and out of my city, Batman.”

Bruce was struggling to untangle the mess of boys he had just caught, boys who seen fit to start arguing as soon as they could talk.

“Father, Tim was interfering-”

“Oh so everyone else is allowed to, but me? Just admit you have a problem with me, Damian-”

“Of course I do! All of you are ruining everything!”

“Hal, wait-”

Hal did not wait, because Hal fucking Jordan didn’t wait for anyone.

* * *

“-and now I can’t go home because I don’t know where my bowls are or if my fucking closet is going to attack me!” Hal finished, throwing up his hands in exasperation and quite frankly, exhaustion. “I haven’t even done anything to him!”

“I’m confused-”

“He’s doing this on purpose.” Hal hissed over his now cold coffee. “I know he is.”

Barry paused, mouth open. “Who is?” he asked finally.

“Bruce.” Hal hissed conspiratorially, leaning closer just in case one of Bruce’s little batbrats was hanging around in the floor tiles or something. “He’s been hanging around- And two of the… however many children he has, have said something about cows- It’s some kind of code word about their plan to kill me.”

“Now Hal, I don’t think-”

“I was thinking about it- If I die of a heart attack because his children are clones who appear out of nowhere, he technically didn’t kill me, right-”

Barry looked confused.

“-but, because it was taking too long, they sped up the timeline and I know they have a timeline for my death because one of the little brats accidentally let slip-”

“Hal I think you should stop drinking that-”

“So,” Hal continued over Barry, sipping his coffee, senses on high alert, “they sent Red Rooster-”

“Red Roos- Do you mean Red Robin?”

“-to fuck with my apartment, that’s why I couldn’t find anything and of course the Ring wouldn’t alert me to a child, because normal children don’t break into people’s houses and rearrange their things.” Hal said. “And then they started fighting which was just another ploy to get me to have a heart attack-”

“Um.” Barry bit his lip. “Hal, I don’t think that’s…” Barry trailed off as the door to the breakroom slid open and Bruce walked in, holding a bouquet of red roses tied with a green ribbon and a familiar cardboard box from Hal’s favourite cheesecake shop.

“Oh no! Not today, Spooky!” Hal shouted, shooting out of his chair and slamming his knee into the bottom of the table and knocking his coffee over onto Barry’s pile of half eaten burritos. The pain barely registered. “Not to-fucking-day!”

Barry gasped in horror. “My burritos!”

Bruce stopped in his tracks. “Hal, if you’ll just let me explain-”

“What is your problem with me, huh?!” Hal yelled, storming around the table and jabbing a finger into Bruce’s chest. “You got a problem with me, Bats, then solve it like a real man instead of sending your little minions to deal with it-”

“I do not have-” Bruce said before he shook his head. “Look, if this is about last night, I am-”

“It’s about everything!” Hal said, throwing his hands up and smacking Bruce’s stupid flowers.

“Hal!” Barry cajoled, worming between him and Bruce. “Stop it! Clark-”

Bruce shielded the flowers protectively, glowering. “Can we take this somewhere private?”

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Get the chance to off me yourself!”

“_What?_”

“That’s what you were angling for, wasn’t it!” Hal yelled. “Been cozying up to me these past few weeks to get me nice and complacent and then when I’m all relaxed-”

“What on _Earth_ are you talking about-”

“Clark!” Barry bellowed over the both of them, shoving at Hal uselessly. “Clar-”

“What in Hera’s name is going on in here?!” Diana demanded, slamming into the breakroom like a woman possessed, expression furious. “Barry, stop shouting.”

Barry’s mouth snapped shut and then he disappeared from between Hal and Bruce and reappeared behind Diana’s shoulder. “Sorry, but I thought they were going to fight again.” he said sheepishly, blinking owlishly.

“Oh we’re having it out.” Hal said, glaring at Bruce. “You’ve come to finish the job after your kids botched it last night, huh?”

Bruce rubbed his eyes.

Hal grinned, tapping his temple. “But I’m onto you, Spooks, I see right through your little plan to kill me- well you’re going to have to do better than th-”

“Kill you?!” Bruce repeated incredulously. “I’m not trying to kill you! How much clearer can I-”

“So what’s this about cows?!” Hal shouted.

Bruce stared at him. “Cows?! Wh- Oh for _god’s sake_…”

“See?!” Hal yelled at Barry, gesturing at Bruce wildly. “I told you it was a codeword for their plan to kill me!”

Barry was still hiding behind Diana, eyes peeking up over her shoulders. “Somehow I don’t think that’s what’s going on here, Hal.”

Diana was staring at Hal with a pitying expression. “Hal, how much sleep have you had?” she asked gently, smile maternal.

“Six hours.” Barry answered unhelpfully, like the little brown noser he was. “Over the last three days. And he can’t find his bowls or his toothpaste.”

“Oh you little…” Hal growled.

Diana sighed. “Hal-”

“Six hours-” Bruce repeated sharply. “Have you listened to my advice at all or are you always this reckless and stupid when it comes to your own health-”

“Oh, oh! Like you’re any better!” Hal shouted, throwing his hands up again. “I’m not the one dressed as a Bat running around punching criminals! At least I have powers!”

“Enough!” Diana said firmly, stepping in between them. “Hal, why don’t we go for a walk? My mother sent me some tea that aids with sleep. I’ll make you some and you can tell me about the last trip you and John went on.”

Hal glowered at Bruce as Diana hooked their arms together and guided him firmly out of the room. She was giving him no room to refuse because it wasn’t like he could overpower her anyway. “I’m onto you,” he warned Bruce, snatching the box of cheesecake off him as they walked past.

Bruce glared at Hal in return and then at his stupid roses and then at Barry.

“Hey Bats, who’re the flowers for?” Barry asked as the doors slid shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suspend disbelief. I'm well aware that a simple bite wouldn't hurt that much through the fancy bat suits. But I really wanted Damian to bite someone.
> 
> Also, I do hope I did Tim's character justice. He's a bit of an odd one, because he's either really, really serious or super crack fic. I tried to strike a nice balance.


	7. Interlude - Bruce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man you all really enjoyed Tim’s chapter because so many of you commented. I got like 30 comments on that chapter alone. That or everyone was just under lockdown and had nothing else to do.  
Either way, thank you!  
As a little thank you gift, I decided to write something from Bruce’s perspective.

Chapter 7: Interlude - Bruce

“Hey Bats, who are the flowers for-” the door slid shut behind Hal and Diana and the dopey act Barry had been putting on, dropped away. “What are you playing at?”

Bruce wasn’t quite sure what had happened in the few hours since Hal had dropped Tim and Damian off and now. “I’m not playing at anything.”

“You’re not?” Barry asked, sliding in between Bruce and door defensively. “That man has been to _war_ and I have never seen him like that before. So either you tell me what hell you did to him, or I will tell Diana every single thing Hal told me and let her deal with you.”

Bruce regarded Barry thoughtfully, knowing the threat wasn’t an empty one. Whatever Hal had told Barry had incensed the normally level headed speedster and would no doubt anger Diana too. “I’m not trying to kill him. The flowers were for him because I was trying to apologise for my children-”

“Your children? Who just spent the last two weeks gaslighting him into believing he was going crazy?” Barry demanded sharply. “Or were you apologizing for the children that broke into his house? Or the one who stalked him? Or the one that showed up at his work? Which one, Bruce?”

Bruce paused, a few of Barry’s accusations ringing unfamiliar. “Gaslighting him?”

Barry stared at him, expression hard. 

“If you aren’t going to explain, then I need to find Hal-”

Barry appeared in front of him, hand shoving against Bruce’s chest. “No. You’re not going near him.” he snapped.

“Get out of my way.”

“No.” Barry repeated. “Hal’s not afraid of anything, but I have never, ever seen him so on edge in all the time I’ve known him. Not when he came back from Bialya, not when Sinestro betrayed him, not ever.”

“Then explain what you meant by gaslighting.”

Barry’s face creased with a look of cold anger and he took a step back and explained in short, clipped sentences what Hal had told him.

Bruce listened with growing concern, as Barry laid out instance after instance of Bruce’s children repeatedly breaking into Hal’s apartment to move around his things, seemingly at random. How Hal had tripped and fallen and bumped into countless pieces of furniture, about the loss of sleep and paranoia that had come along with it.

And by the end of it, Bruce was furious.

Bruce thought back to how Hal had been the last time they had seen each other, when Stephanie had broken into his house. Looking back, Hal had been more on edge than usual and a little less receptive to Bruce’s attention, almost distracted.

Bruce was used to his children’s antics but Hal, outside of his life as Green Lantern, lived a relatively quiet, normal life. At least, in comparison to Bruce.

There was less distinction between Batman and Bruce than there was between Green Lantern and Hal Jordan.

Undoubtedly, some of Hal’s accusations were his own dramatics at play, but after repeated break ins and multiple people stalking him, it wasn’t hard to see why he had made the leap to murder, over Bruce wanting to take him on a date.

“So tell me again why I should get out of your way?” Barry asked.

Bruce took a deep breath. He had intended on going after Hal and explaining, properly, but it seemed that he had something else to do first. “You shouldn’t.” he said.

Barry frowned.

“I will deal with my children.” Bruce told him. “They won’t be doing this again.”

“They’d better not.” Barry said coolly. “I know they’re kids but if anyone else had done this…”

Bruce agreed. Had anyone else done the things they had, the consequences would have been swift and severe, but Barry was giving him a chance to rectify the situation. “I will apologise to Hal. And explain to him why I kept coming around.”

“Which was?”

“A private matter.”

Barry pressed his lips together but didn’t say anything else. He just shook his head and exited out the same door Hal and Diana had gone through.

Bruce lingered in the break room for a few moments longer before tossing the roses into the bin and stalking back out of the headquarters to the garage, where he had parked the car.

He was furious with his children. Not only had they put their own bet above the feelings of another person, but they had also done irreparable damage to Bruce’s relationship with the Justice League. Hal’s accusations may be unfounded, but Bruce knew that the sight of one Justice Leaguer in distress because of another would be unwelcome for all other members.

He refrained from punching the steering wheel, but when he started the car, he was less gentle than ordinary when he wrenched the car into gear and yanked it out of the garage.

Bruce wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He loved his children, he did, but they had been so incredibly short sighted and they hadn’t even considered that maybe Bruce had been serious about pursuing a relationship.

So Bruce did what he always did when he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

He called Alfred.

“Master Bruce, I hope everything went well with Captain Jordan?” Alfred greeted pleasantly.

“It did not.”

Alfred was quiet. “Ah. I presume it is related to his late night visit with Masters’ Tim and Damian?”

Bruce thought about his words carefully. “This bet has gone on too long, Alfred.” he said, unsure of how to explain what Tim had done. He had expected better from Tim. In all honesty, he had expected better from all of his children.

“I have been saying that for some time now.” Alfred said mildly.

“Hal thinks I’m trying to kill him.” Bruce said shortly. It was perhaps the most insulting thing Bruce had ever been accused of. He would have thought Hal would know him better than that.

But after what Barry had told him, Bruce couldn’t exactly explain away Hal’s anger and worry as him simply being dramatic.

Tim had crossed every line Bruce had taught him. And while the majority of the blame lay with Tim for Hal’s current state of mind, there was no doubt blame to be laid at Jason and Dick’s feet as well, for encouraging and egging the bet on.

“I think I shall need some clarification, Master Bruce.” Alfred said quietly.

Bruce explained, as best he could, the events that had transpired the night before and all of the other events before that.

Alfred said nothing for a long time after Bruce was finished.

“I thought they would…” Bruce wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. More than he was angry, Bruce was hurt. He had honestly thought his children respected him enough to give his feelings for Hal a chance. But they hadn’t.

Alfred seemed to understand anyway. “I will call them to the manor, Master Bruce. I think a _talk_ about boundaries and respect is long overdue.” he said, even keeled as always. “They will be in your office when you arrive.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course, my boy.”

* * *

“Why is he here?!”

“Damian, stop it.”

“Nah, let them fight. We can put money on it-”

“Jason!”

“Oh calm down, Duke. They fight all the time, may as well make a quick buck off it.”

“No one is fighting.” Cassandra cut in. “Damian, come sit with me and leave Tim alone.”

“I will not! All of you are traitorous swine-”

“Damian…”

“Do not speak to me, _Grayson_, you are no better than Todd.”

“Ouch, Dickiebird-”

Bruce decided he had heard enough. Hearing his children snipe at each other was disheartening. It had seemed like they were finally getting along well, especially since Tim and Damian weren’t fighting nearly as much and Tim had even moved back into the manor.

He pushed open the door and his office fell silent immediately. Cassandra was the only one to meet his eyes steadily, but the rest avoided his gaze with practiced ease.

Damian rushed over, puffed up with indignation at being forced into the same room as his ‘traitorous’ siblings. Why they were traitors, Bruce wasn’t quite sure, and Damian had refused to explain or even look at Bruce when Hal had dropped him and Tim off the night before. “Father, finally! You’ve come to your senses and will finally be punishing these imbeciles-”

“Don’t call your siblings imbeciles.” Bruce said firmly, sweeping his eyes over the rest of his gathered children. “Sit down, Damian.”

“Father?”

Bruce sat Damian down on the couch next to Cassandra and turned to look at the rest of his gathered children.

Tim was staring at the ground and Stephanie and Duke looked mildly guilty. Dick was as unreadable as ever, a faint smile on his face as he watched Damian try and bat Cassandra’s hands away from his hair. Jason just flipped Bruce off.

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Bruce asked finally. It wasn’t what he planned on saying.

Jason raised an eyebrow, looking around the room. “Get to the point, old man. I’ve got shit to do.”

“It won’t take long.” Bruce said sharply. “Because all of you and this bet, I have been accused of plotting to have a member of the Justice League killed.”

The room stilled and Jason’s smile faded into a look of exaggerated confusion.

Finally, Dick spoke. “Killed?” he asked, looking concerned.

Bruce stared at his eldest. Dick had always been responsible, silly, yes, but also responsible. He had honestly expected Dick to reign the others in as he had done many times before. “Yes. Hal Jordan is under the impression that I have been sending you,” he looked at each of his children in turn, “to torment him until his heart gives out.”

Perhaps it was because Bruce was still in the cowl, or maybe it was just because they had been called to the manor by Alfred, but none of them made a joke or quip.

“Compounded,” Bruce continued, “by the fact that Tim saw fit to subject him to the same kind of psychological torture that abusive stalkers often inflict on their victims, by gaslighting him about his own apartment.”

Dick looked at Tim sharply and even Jason looked surprised.

“Psychological torture?” Stephanie repeated, looking between Tim and Bruce. “I don’t understand-”

“Explain to them.” Bruce interrupted.

Tim looked pleadingly at him and then sagged. “I… I started moving things around his place. Just small things so he would know something was wrong, but he wouldn’t be able to tell whether he had done it or not.”

“Jesus Christ, dude.” Duke said, looking horrified.

“I didn’t mean for it to go so far.” Tim said guiltily. “I thought he would know it was one of us and confront Bruce about it, but he didn’t. He just got more and more paranoid…”

Stephanie looked hurt as she stared at Tim in disbelief.

Dick look disappointed. “Tim, we wanted to delay Bruce and Hal getting together, not drive them apart altogether.”

“I know!” Tim said and then sighed. “I know. I didn’t think it would get this bad, I didn’t think he would think we were trying to hurt him.”

“I haven’t done anything.” Jason pointed out smugly.

“Yes you have!” Damian exploded, pointing at Jason accusingly. “You and Grayson were the one who started the bet in the first place! Without you none of this would have happened!”

“Your precious Dickie was the one who suggested the bet because he was so sure it wouldn’t work out-”

“That is not what I said-”

“_All_ of you contributed.” Bruce interrupted sternly. “Breaking and entering, stalking, showing up at his workplace, these are all crossing a line between personal and private life. Not only have you damaged my relationship, working and otherwise, with Hal, but you have jeopardized his identity.”

Damian looked smug, folding his arms as he stared at Tim and Jason in turn, no doubt thinking himself free of consequences.

“It is only because I am a part of the Justice League that none of you are being sanctioned.” Bruce said harshly, losing a little of the tight control he had over his anger. “You have disgraced me, and you have disgraced yourselves with your actions. Not just last night, but every time one of you went to Coast City, stalked, harassed, tormented, or attacked Hal Jordan.”

“We just wanted to meet him.” Stephanie tried. “You always get all funny around him in the cowl recordings and when was the last time someone outside us made you smile, Bruce-”

“You had no right!” Bruce thundered. “I told you all to stay away from Coast City! I was open with you about wanting to pursue a relationship with Hal and you disobeyed me and flouted my request to let me pursue this privately, at my own pace!”

Stephanie looked down, fiddling with her hands nervously. Duke looked bullish, but underneath it, Bruce could see he was unnerved.

Bruce took a deep breath, calming himself. He hadn’t meant to yell or scare them. “I asked you to let me do this at my own discretion. I _asked_, because I trusted you, because I thought you would act with maturity and grace.”

Jason’s jaw was set with annoyance and defiance.

Bruce met his eyes. “I thought that I meant enough to you that you would give me the chance to navigate this relationship in private. That you would treat my feelings with respect, but you treated them as if they were a joke, something to be made light of.” he said. “I expected better of you.”

His office was quiet. It brought no satisfaction to see the shame and guilt present in each of his children’s expressions. He was too hurt by their actions to feel anything but disappointment.

“But I obviously expected too much.”

Jason finally looked away, jaw clenching.

Dick met Bruce’s gaze head on, expression contrite.

“As of now there is no bet.” Bruce told them. “You will not go to Coast City. You will not investigate, research or see Hal Jordan. Am I understood?”

He got a quiet murmur of assent. He had honestly expected more arguing, but perhaps Alfred had said something to them while they had been waiting for Bruce.

“Tim.”

Tim wouldn’t look at him.

“You crossed a line we _do not_ cross. We don’t attack our allies.” Bruce said. He hadn’t expected something like this from Tim. “You are benched for the next month, from patrol and from Wayne Enterprises.”

Tim accepted his punishment with a nod, ignoring the glare Stephanie was leveling at him.

“The rest of you are confined to Gotham and I would bench all of you, if not for the fact that it would leave the city unguarded. As it stands, Robin will not be on patrol either-”

“What?!” Damian exploded incredulously, arms springing unfolded. “Why?! That’s not fair!”

“You fought with your brother, in uniform, in Hal’s apartment, where you could have been seen.” Bruce said sharply. “Your presence there placed Hal’s own identity in danger, because what reason would Hal Jordan have to be visited by both Robin and Red Robin?”

“I was trying to help!” Damian shouted, shooting up from his place on the couch. “I was trying to protect Captain Jordan from this… this cretinous, traitorous barbarian-”

Dick scooped Damian up before he could attack Tim. “Enough, Little D.” he murmured. “It’ll be okay-”

Damian squirmed. “It will not!”

“Damian, enough!” Bruce snapped. “Regardless of whether you were taking part in the bet or not, you were expressly forbidden from going to see Hal. You directly disobeyed me-”

“_No!_ I had to go otherwise they would drive him away!” Damian cried, kicking Dick viciously until Dick was forced to let him go. “They’ve already ruined everything- because this stupid bet, Captain Jordan will never want to join the family! He won’t make Father smile anymore a-and he won’t want anything to do with m-me and it’s all _your_ fault!” he yelled at Tim, voice cracking with genuine distress.

Bruce froze at Damian’s words, his own disappearing as he processed what Damian had said.

Likewise, the rest of the room went still, each of the others looking at Damian in shock.

Damian made a strangled noise and Bruce only caught a brief glimpse of wetness in his eyes before he turned on his heel and ran out of the office, slamming the door open in his haste.

For a moment, Bruce’s office was quiet.

“Oh Damian…” Stephanie whispered.

Cassandra stood up suddenly, pinning the room with a cold, hard glare. She looked like she was about to say something but then just shook her head and stalked out of Bruce’s office, shoulders high.

Dick looked horrified and miserable, all at the same time.

Jason flicked one of Bruce’s knick knacks off the mantle, scowling darkly. “_Well fuck_.” he growled. “Now the little brat wants to play _family_.” he sneered derisively, but the redness around his ears told Bruce that the defensiveness was out of guilt not true anger.

“That’s not fair.” Duke said immediately, frowning at Jason disapprovingly. “I mean… Have you heard the way he talks about Mr. Jordan and Bruce? I think he really likes him-”

Tim looked uncharacteristically bullish. “He’s just mad because he didn’t get his way-”

“Tim!” Stephanie scolded harshly. “He was _crying_!”

“He bit me!” Tim exploded.

“Because you went full stalker on a member of the fuckin’ Justice League!” Jason cried, throwing his hands up.

“You egged him on.” Dick said defensively. “Like you always do-”

Alfred’s voice cut through the chaos with frightening efficiency. “That is quite _enough_ out of all of you.”

Bruce was never more grateful for Alfred. He had never dealt with the full force of all his children at once before. And certainly not when emotions were running so high. He was out of his depth.

Alfred walked into the room carrying a tray of hot chocolate. He set it down on the table next to the leather sofa Tim and Duke were sitting on, but he made no move to hand it out. “Would someone like to explain to me why Master Damian just ran by me in a frightful state?”

The room was silent.

Alfred’s lips pressed together in a thin, displeased line. “Master Bruce, if you wouldn’t mind taking the hot chocolate back to the kitchen. We have no need of it here.”

Dick paled and tried to sidle behind Jason.

Bruce knew a dismissal when he heard one and picked up the tray.

“You might give some to Miss Cassandra and Master Damian on your way down,” Alfred suggested lightly, perfectly unruffled as he surveyed the gathered children.

The office door clicked shut behind Bruce and he was grateful for Alfred’s intervention. He hadn’t been aware Damian had felt so strongly about Bruce’s feelings for Hal, or the fact that he apparently wanted Hal to be a part of a family.

It was rather sobering, having missed something so important to his own child.

And in hindsight, it was pathetically obvious. Bruce should have put the pieces together. Damian was young and he only ever known his parents as separate entities, had only known his brothers as they lived outside the manor, in fragments.

He had never imagined that perhaps Damian had craved a proper, healthy family unit. Bruce had never even considered Damian would want one, had never even thought about the fact that Damian should have one.

All of his children should.

And Hal Jordan, the infuriating man he was, made Bruce smile, something rare even in the family and Bruce had told Damian he intended to ask Hal out. Of course Damian would have latched onto him.

Bruce paused outside Damian’s door. Inside, he could hear the low sound of Cassandra’s voice and Titus’ unhappy whines.

He knocked. “Damian?”

Cassandra’s voice broke off and a moment later, the door opened, and she peered out with a sad expression on her face.

He couldn’t see Damian’s bed from the door; it was tucked around the corner by the bay windows. Damian liked the view. But there was a ruined book on the floor, pages flung everywhere, and Damian’s desk had been ripped apart, his tablet and pencils strewn over the floor.

It was a far cry from the neat room Damian had been taught to keep in the League.

Cassandra stared at Bruce for a moment and then took a cup of hot chocolate off the tray and turned to slip back into the room.

Bruce followed her, closing the door behind himself. He set the tray down on the table in Damian’s sitting area, watching as his eldest daughter stole over to Damian and waved the cup under his nose.

“Go away, Cassandra.” Damian sniffed, curled up on the bay window, arms wrapped around Titus. He was facing away from Bruce, shoulders hunched. “I’m not a child, I don’t need to be coddled.”

“You are my little brother.” Cassandra chided. “I enjoy cuddling.”

“Coddling, not cuddling.” Damian corrected sulkily.

Cassandra smiled at Bruce and he knew she made the mistake on purpose.

“Damian,” Bruce started, sitting down next to his son on the cushioned bay, “I didn’t know you wanted Hal to join the family so much.”

Damian’s head whipped around. “I don’t!” he insisted loudly. He turned away. “He’s stupid.” he said more quietly.

Cassandra sipped her drink, tucking her knees under her chin. “I like him.” she said with a faint smile. “He’s funny.”

Damian scowled, accepting the mug Bruce handed him. “He’s stupid.” he repeated.

Bruce wasn’t sure how to reassure his son. He couldn’t tell Damian that Hal would come around and join the family, because at the moment, Hal was convinced that Bruce wanted him dead. Any romantic relationship they might have had was dead and gone. “Why did you say Hal wouldn’t want anything to do with you?”

Damian looked uncertain, a very odd expression on his normally confident face. He fiddled with his cup, pushing Titus’ nose away every so often. “… After the other night… he might think I wanted to hurt him too.”

Cassandra clicked her tongue, pressing her lips together in a near mirror of Alfred’s disapproving face.

Bruce sighed. “I know you were only trying to help, but Damian, do you understand why it was reckless for you to go there again? What if someone saw Robin the first time and then saw you again the second time? Hal’s secret identity is just as important as mine.”

Damian looked down unhappily. “I know, Father.”

Damian’s room was quiet aside from Titus’ tail thumping against the cushion and his panting as he tried to coax a smile from his master.

“Does this mean you won’t see him anymore?” Damian asked quietly.

Bruce honestly didn’t know. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he loved Hal, but he felt very deeply for the other man. He genuinely enjoyed Hal’s company, when he wasn’t trying to get himself killed, and it wasn’t a pleasant thought to think that Bruce would have to let those feelings fall by the wayside.

But as things stood, Hal might be liable to kill Bruce in self-defense the next time they saw each other.

“I don’t know, Damian.” Bruce said honestly. “Why do you like him so much? A few months ago, you were certain he was a mole.” he teased.

Cassandra snickered into her hand.

“He makes you happy.” Damian said seriously. “And he makes you smile. And I thought if you were happy, then the others might… come home more often.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw little baby Damian.   
She says, as if she didn’t make herself cry.  
Anywho, I’ll see you folks next time  
Also, do we have a Batlantern discord or something? If so, can I get an invite? I promise, I won’t do more angst.  
I’m lying ofc, I will do angst but still, lemme know if we have a discord.


	8. Wonder Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal is a dramatic himbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS I GOT FANART
> 
> I’m pretty sure it’s always linked at the bottom of my chapters now, but you should all go look and leave some nice comments for the artist, just-kent-ing-around.
> 
> ALSO
> 
> ALSO
> 
> My story got featured in a YouTuber’s video about fanfiction recs and she said it was good and introspective and fun and oh my god you guys I’ve always thought about fanfiction as this sort of super nerdy, must be hidden away in the dark corners of the internet sort of thing but now it’s way more mainstream and people talk about reading it all the time and my little heart just can’t take it  
Now I am a bit nervous because I have to live up to her high praise
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 8: Wonder Woman

Hal woke up feeling better than he had in a long time. The bed under him was the perfect type of firmness and the pillows he was lying on felt like clouds.

For a few moments, he just let himself bask in the absolute comfort he found himself surrounded in. The sun was streaming in from somewhere, pooling on the duvet over his legs and it warmed him all the way down to the bone.

Sighing, Hal rolled onto his stomach, trapping a pillow under him. He opened his eyes lazily, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

There was a chair and a bedside table next to the bed, a glass of water sitting on the table, still gleaming with condensation.

Hal didn’t recognise the room he was in, but the cold water told him someone had been in recently.

Everything looked too expensive and the bed he was in was far bigger than his own, a king, if he had to guess. There were floor to ceiling curtains on the wall behind the chair and one of the had been cracked slightly, letting sunlight pool on the floor and bed.

Hal wiggled over to the edge of the bed on his stomach, picking up the glass and taking a tentative sip.

He sneezed despite his caution and he rolled his eyes at the stupid reaction he always had to drinking something early in the morning.

He gulped down the entire glass of water, not having realized just how thirsty he was. It was gone too soon, and he frowned at the glass, disliking the idea of getting up and potentially ruining the comfort he was currently lying in.

Flopping back onto the bed, Hal stared at the white ceiling for a few moments before the scratchiness of his throat forced him up with a loud groan. He pouted for a bit before taking the glass and stomping over to the door.

The hallway damn near blinded him with all the sunlight being thrown around.

Hal grunted, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted and he wandered down the hall, following the faint sound of voices.

As he padded down the stairs, he heard the voices pause and finally, Diana’s dark head popped out from an archway down the brightly lit hallway. She smiled when she saw him.

“Hal, I was just about to wake you,” she said warmly, coming out into the hallway, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. “How are you feeling?”

Hal figured this had to be her house then. No one else in the League, barring Bruce, was rich enough to have a house this nice. Or you know, with windows. “Good,” he said, “haven’t slept that well in a long time.”

She sighed and ushered him through the archway and into a large kitchen. There was a fruit bowl on the counter and a brand new Wayne phone that Diana picked up. “I gathered. You’ve been asleep for nearly forty eight hours.”

Hal blinked. “Forty eigh- What day is it?!”

“Thursday-”

“I have to go to work!” Hal remembered suddenly, patting the pajama pants he was wearing and then looking around for his phone. “Carol’s gonna-”

“I called Carol,” Diana said, catching his hands. “Explained that you were recovering after Justice League business and needed some time off. She was worried about you and said she would take of everything.”

Hal stared at her, memories of Red Rooster and then arguing with Bruce coming flooding back. He remembered accusing Bruce of trying to kill him, the taste of the shitty coffee from Headquarters and then rambling at Diana about cows.

Diana pressed her lips together. “I let you rest because you weren’t in a good way, but I think it’s time we had an explanation. Having one member accuse another of trying to kill them is worrying. As is the fact that you had been staying at headquarters.”

The vaguest memory of a makeshift bed in the locker room came back to him.

Diana was staring at him, a stern look on her face.

Hal’s stomach decided to make an appearance, growling fiercely and he looked down, suddenly aware that he was absolutely starving.

It got a sigh out of Diana. “I just ordered lunch,” she said, ushering him over to a stool and practically forcing him onto it. “While we wait for it to come, you can explain.”

Hal sighed, barely listening as Diana rattled off what she had ordered. In truth, he was so hungry he would eat anything she put in front of him.

He was more focused on the fact that he had apparently had a breakdown in front of not just Barry, but Bruce and Diana as well. He remembered telling Barry about the Batkids and their non-stop harassment and breaking and entering and the things being moved around his apartment.

Now that he had actually had some sleep and wasn’t stuck in his dinky little apartment with no balcony, constantly looking over his shoulder for the next gremlin, Hal was feeling a little more objective.

And less stressed.

Enough that he realized he had probably overreacted just a little bit. He wasn’t _not_ sold on the idea that Bruce wasn’t trying to kill him, but there had to be some nefarious reason for Bruce to set the hordes of stalker children on Hal.

Maybe to drive him out of the League?

Hal genuinely didn’t know what he had done to Bruce to make him hate him so much. Yeah they fought, but that was because Bruce was a raging authoritarian asshole with mommy issues and Hal was an asshole with authority issues.

But that didn’t mean Hal wanted Bruce gone.

In fact, Hal had actually thought that he and Bruce had actually been getting along better before all this-

“You're rather shaken up by all this, aren't you?" Diana said softly. 

Hal sighed, rubbing his face roughly. “It's so stupid."

"Not at all." Diana said. “But I do need to hear what happened from you. Barry was hazy on the details." 

Hal didn’t know where to start. Now that he wasn’t running on six hours of sleep in a week and sixteen cups of coffee, he recognised that the whole thing sounded completely ridiculous and unbelievable. “I think Bruce is sending his kids to stalk and harass me until I die of a heart attack or I don’t know… leave the League?”

Diana’s face creased into a frown.

“Hear me out,” Hal said quickly. “It all started when Damian, Robin, whatever, showed up one day and said he was ‘investigating me’. At first I just thought it was because he was Spooky’s kid and any child of Spooky’s is bound to be a little weird.”

Diana folded her arms, turning to face him. She had that look on her face, the one where he could tell she was genuinely listening to everything he said.

“But then it got weird, because Cassandra started stalking me and Nightwing showed up in Coast City to give me the shovel talk about not ‘taking advantage of the League’-”

“He said that?” Diana interrupted, frown deepening.

“Uh- well, I mean the whole thing was weird,” Hal said helplessly. He knew people fairly well, he had always been good at reading them but with the Batkids, they were all so weird that he just didn’t know what they wanted. “He accused me of having commitment issued, but I don’t know how that would affect my time in the League.”

Diana sighed, a muscle in her jaw jumping. “What exactly did he say, Hal?”

“Dick?”

“Yes.”

“Uh… Well he was looking at my phone and then he said something to effect of, ‘as cute as this is, I’m not exactly know for my ability to commit and after everything he’s been through, Dick wasn’t interested in fixing it’?” Hal said, rubbing his head. “It didn’t really make a lot of sense, because I don’t know who he was talking about so that’s why I thought he was talking about the League.”

Diana rubbed her temples. “Go on,” she said with a heavy sigh.

Hal wasn’t quite sure what had prompted that reaction from Diana but shrugged it off. “Well anyway, Bruce asked me to help him with a case in Gotham because he was sure some street drugs were cut with something alien. And in the middle of it, Dick, well I guess Nightwing, showed up and they had a weird fight in the car and in Bruce’s cave. Did you know Bruce was a butler?”

“Hal.”

“Right, sorry. Dick wouldn’t stop making weird remarks about me and he kept smiling. And that was when they mentioned the bet. I didn’t think much of it, because who knows with Bruce,” Hal said. “But then when number four broke into my house and mentioned cows, just like Dick did, I knew something was up.”

“Cows.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what it means either, but they all mentioned they were researching me, and cows cropped up more than once,” Hal explained, rubbing his stomach when it growled again. “I sort of got the idea that maybe Bruce was trying to kill me because he kept offering me food and it’s just so weird, right?”

Diana’s eyebrows rose and she sighed, giving him a soft smile.

“What?”

“Nothing, go on.”

“Well I knew for sure when number five showed up at work and asked me about my dating preferences and he mentioned the bet as well and how he and some of the others had a faster ‘timeline’,” Hal explained. “Which told me that either they had taken bets on who could kill me first or who could drive me out of the League first.”

Diana sighed again. “And then the incident with Damian and Tim?”

“Who’s Tim?”

“Red Robin.”

“Oh that little-” Hal glowered fiercely, remembering the Hell that little troll had put him through. It wasn’t the inconvenience of having his things moved, it was the fact that it was Hal’s _stuff_, private and otherwise that little gremlin had been pawing through.

The thought that Red Robin or Tim had been watching him and moving his things around and then watching Hal go insane, was just so completely unbelievable and infuriating and-

Hal didn’t like having his privacy invaded and he hated, hated, hated the thought of someone being able to get inside his head like that. After Parallax and Bialya, Hal never wanted to let anyone get the better of him or manipulate him like that ever again.

It was humiliating, knowing that someone had watched him flounder and enjoyed it. It left him feeling like he had been flawed raw, like he was weak and stupid and-

“Hal!”

Hal blinked, looking up.

Diana had a hand on his shoulder, eyes sympathetic. “I apologise. I had heard about what happened from Barry but I wanted to hear it from you as well. I should have been more considerate.”

Hal rubbed his face. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I didn’t help either,” Diana said gently. “Rest assured, Tim has been punished and I do believe later today, Clark will be paying him a visit.”

Hal snorted despite his foul mood. “That’s not fair, Kent’s puppy dog eyes and disappointed voice are a weapon no one can withstand.”

“I’m considering going as well.”

“We don’t want him to die of shame, Diana.”

She didn’t laugh.

Hal sighed. “Can you at least not tell Ollie? I don’t need him breaking down my door for another ‘self-care’ session. The last time we did that he tried to put a face mask on me and ended up ripping off half my eyebrow.”

_That_ made her snort. She shook her head, smile fading quickly though. “You know we would never let Bruce kill you, if he was ever to be so inclined, right?”

Hal stared at her.

“He’s not, I know he’s not,” Diana said reassuringly. “But tell me honestly, do you think Bruce would _ever _be capable of killing someone? Especially someone he considers a friend?”

Friend, Hal wasn’t so sure about. Bruce was still stroppy over that thing with the guys and the sacks. But intrinsically, Hal knew that Bruce wasn’t the type of guy to go around murdering people. Bruce had always been the beacon, as much as a guy in a bat costume who said stuff like ‘I am the night’ could be a beacon, of a fair trial and due process.

But aside from wanting Hal out of the League, which couldn’t be done without say so from the other Founders, there was no other reason for Bruce’s crazy children to start stalking Hal.

“I mean, I was very stressed at the time,” Hal said defensively. “And after everything I've been through, you can't blame me for coming to that conclusion.”

"No-" There was a knock on the door and Diana turned on her stool. “That would be our lunch.”

Hal’s stomach gurgled grumpily, unhappy with only being fed water. “Thank god. Or else I was about to start eating your countertops.”

Diana patted his head and slipped out of the room, leaving Hal to his own devices. She had left her phone behind and he saw it light up as she got a text message

He didn’t explicitly look but he also didn’t look away.

It was from Bruce and all it said, was ‘4pm.’

Hal didn’t know what that meant. “You have a message,” he said when Diana came back into the kitchen, toting a plain brown paper bag that smelled like heaven and balancing a cupholder with two pink cups on her arm.

“What does it say?”

“Uh- It’s from Bruce and it says 4pm.”

Diana clicked her tongue and dumped their lunch onto the countertop elegantly. “I told him no, but does he listen? Of course not.”

Hal wasn’t really listening because Diana pulled out a container of falafel salad that looked amazing. His stomach seemed to think so as well, because it practically lurched out of his body in excitement.

“I wasn't sure what you wanted,” Diana said as she unpacked the containers, opening them as she went along. “So I got a little bit of everything. There should be more than enough but if you're still hungry, I can order more.”

Hal nearly went crossed eyed when he spied what looked like little oven baked pastries filled with something meaty and delicious. There was tabbouleh and another falafel salad and hummus dip and bread and little fried things that looked almost like croissants but better.

He heard Diana laugh at him as she got plates out. “Help yourself. There are no formalities.”

Hal groaned. “Thank you, Diana!” he crowed, grabbing one of the delicious looking open pastries and taking a bite. It was lamb and it was delicious and hot and crispy on the outside and it was honestly the best thing he had ever eaten in his life. “Oh my god.”

He tried to be a little bit polite since he was technically a guest in Diana’s house, but she didn’t seem to mind that he was eating with his hands.

The pink cup turned out to be a chocolate thickshake and Hal thought that Diana should be his new best friend, because Barry had never bought Hal chocolate thickshakes and Mediterranean food after a bender.

She laughed when Hal told her so. “You shouldn’t be so quick to discount Barry. He’s the one who explained everything after you fell asleep.”

“He doesn’t bring me food, he just eats my food,” Hal said thickly, chewing a piece of falafel. “What’s happening at four?”

Diana hummed, picking at her salad. “Bruce wants to come by to see you,” she said, “I suspect, to apologise.”

Hal chewed slowly. A part of him couldn’t help but wonder if this was another one of Bruce’s tricks. Maybe Bruce wasn’t trying to kill him, but there was definitely something fishy going on and it hadn’t boded well for Hal’s mental health so far, so the chances of things going ass up were fairly high.

“And, perhaps explain,” Diana said darkly, eyebrows rising. She looked supremely unimpressed by whatever it was she was thinking about. “Why he takes romance advice from Clark Kent, I do not know, but here we are,” she muttered.

Hal nearly choked on his salad, blinking away tears when he squinted at Diana in shock. “Romantic advice?” he spluttered. “From Clark? The same guy that got himself killed because he couldn’t confess to his girlfriend?”

Diana sighed, giving him a disapproving look.

“Well he did,” Hal reminded her. “And what does Bruce need romantic advice for? He dates models every other day- Every time he posts on Instagram, there are like ten million comments thirsting after him- I’ve seen them, Barry likes to screenshot them sometimes. Do you know how many people have a daddy kink?”

Diana’s eyes were wide as she stared at the table. “No and I don’t want to know.”

“Well there are a lot,” Hal said, eating the rest of his falafel salad and starting in on the beef skewers Diana had bought. “At least four.”

She closed her eyes. “We’re off topic.”

“Oh, right- what does he need romantic advice for? As far as I know, he’s pretty successful with the ladies and gents, isn’t he- and if he isn’t, why didn’t he ask me? I’m way better at romance than Kent! I know all about taking people on baller first dates-”

Diana was staring at him with a funny little smile on her face.

“What?”

“He needs help because the person in question is wholly oblivious to his feelings, as evidenced by recent events.”

Hal didn’t like that smile. That was the kind of smile Carol had whenever she knew something he didn’t.

“Hal,” she cajoled, smile only widening as she stared at him meaningfully, almost as if-

“No,” Hal said immediately, something like realization dawning on him the longer she kept smiling at him. “No.”

Diana’s smile widened into a grin. “Yes.”

“No,” Hal scoffed, sipping his drink. “No. No!”

She didn’t say anything, but bit down on her lower lip, obviously trying not laugh at him.

Hal couldn’t believe she would betray him like this. They were supposed to be friends and now she was joining in on Bruce’s insanity and spouting ridiculousness at him. This was worse than the time Barry had suggested that _Hal_ was attracted to Bruce. “You’re a traitor.”

“Am I.”

There was absolutely no way in hell that Bruce would be trying to romance Hal.

Absolutely not.

Hal didn’t do romance and with Bruce? It was impossible. “No. No, no, nope, nope,” Hal continued, slipping off his stool, thoroughly creeped out by her grin and the very fact that she had even implied that Bruce could be interested in Hal romantically. “Nope, not possible. Fucking? Yes. Dating, no. Bruce and me, no. No, _no_.”

“Yes.”

“No!” Hal shouted as he snatched his lunch and fled out of the kitchen.

* * *

Hal woke up to Diana’s hand on his shoulder and jerked in surprise, not even realizing he had fallen asleep. His phone clattered to the ground and he blinked blearily, confused about why he was outside and why Diana was here. “What-”

The sun was nearly blinding, and Hal swiped at his eyes tiredly, trying to get his bearings.

He was lying on a soft, plush outdoor lounger and the remnants of his lunch was sitting on a glass sidetable that was currently reflecting sunlight right into his eyeballs. He vaguely remembered coming out onto the balcony so he wouldn’t get crumbs on the carpet.

“I bought you some water,” Diana said, taking a seat in one of the other chairs on the balcony of Hal’s borrowed bedroom. “I figured after sleeping in the sun, you would be rather warm.”

Hal accepted it, drinking it down greedily, feeling déjà vu. “What time is it?” he rasped, rubbing his face to try and wake himself up. Normally he adored napping but falling asleep in the sun had left him feeling just a little bit groggy.

“Just after four,” Diana said. “I’m sorry to have woken you, but Bruce is here.”

Hal had bent down to scoop his phone off the ground, and he paused and then sat up slowly, eyeing her warily. He did remember her ridiculous insinuation that Bruce was somehow doing all this because he was trying to romance Hal.

There was nothing more ridiculous.

Hal figured it was because Diana was a romantic, but in reality, Bruce probably just wanted some good old fashioned stress relief. Which Hal was very good at and always down for, but there were easier ways to ask for a fuck. First step, don’t involve creepy kids.

“I can send him away, if you like,” Diana offered quietly. “And then we can start dinner and have a quiet night in.”

Hal considered it. Now that he had time to think about the whole debacle and the fact that everything he had suffered was Bruce’s fucked up version of a bird of paradises’ mating dance, he kind of wanted to refuse to see him.

It would be Shakespearean levels of pettiness and Hal was feeling _just_ a little bit vindictive right now.

But he also didn’t think acting like a moody teenager would help.

And he kind of wanted to punch Bruce right in the face.

“No,” Hal decided. “We should get this sorted out.”

One of Diana’s eyebrows rose. “If you’re sure,” she said.

Hal was pretty sure he wanted to belt Bruce right in the nutsack. Revenge for whoever had crushed Hal’s balls. “We need to get it over and done with.”

She accepted his answer with a nod and stood back up, offering her hand. “If it helps, he looks suitably contrite,” she said as she led him back out of his borrowed bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen.

They paused in the archway to the kitchen and Hal followed her gaze out the window.

Bruce was dressed in a black polo and slacks, hovering under the shade of one of the trees in Diana’s backyard, as if the mere touch of the afternoon sunlight would make him burst into flames. He was watching Hal and Diana, eyes hooded and unreadable.

Hal snorted at the thought of Bruce actually being a vampire. “I got it from here, Diana,” he said, shoving his phone into the pocket of his pajamas. 

Diana hummed. “No blood on the roses,” was all she said, pulling her hand off the door and moving out of his way.

Hal shoved open the backdoor and was halfway across the grass before Bruce could move. He stomped right up to Bruce-

“Hal, I know you probably don’t want to-”

-and punched him in the face, hard enough that Bruce’s head snapped back, sending him stumbling backwards.

Bruce tripped over one of the rocks edging Diana’s roses and toppled back into the bush with a loud yell of pain.

“You couldn’t have just asked me to bone, could you?!” Hal yelled at Bruce, clenching his fists in sheer frustration. He wanted to hit Bruce again, but he didn’t, because Dinah had done so much work trying to help him with his anger, and he didn’t want to let her down.

Bruce made a muffled noise. “I was trying to-”

“No, you had to tiptoe around it as this was a nineteen fifties- I’ve seen the news articles, god knows Barry keeps sending them to me, I know you fuck around Bruce! If you wanted to sleep with me, you should have just said so-” Hal spat, marching right to the bush Bruce had fallen into, glaring at him.

Bruce was tangled up the branches, a dark scowl on his face. There was a red mark on his cheek already and no doubt it would bloom into a big, ugly bruise.

“You deserved that,” Hal said stiffly, making no effort to help Bruce out of the bush. “I should hit you again- Do you know what your little monsters put me through and all because you can’t-”

Bruce grimaced and untangled himself from the thorny bush. He looked almost as ridiculous as his stupid bat costume, with the twigs and leaves all over his stupid polo shirt and in his hair.

“-admit that you think I’m hot-”

Bruce brushed himself down with a frown.

“-you could’ve just said, ‘Hey Hal, you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and I’m not worthy, but let’s bang’ - how hard would that have been?!” Hal demanded, folding his arms.

“Is that what you think this?!” Bruce demanded furiously, swiping at his pants jerkily. “A one night stand?!”

“Well what else would it be?!” Hal shouted.

“I didn’t think I would need to spell it out- For someone with a degree in mechanical engineering, you are shockingly thick-”

“Oh and now we’re back to the insults!” Hal cried, throwing up his arms in disbelief. He pointed at Bruce accusingly, “You know, we should just get it over and done with right now-”

“Stop being vulgar.” Bruce snapped. “I don’t want to ‘bone’ or ‘bang’, Hal,” he said snippily, the air quotes almost visible with the amount of derision in his tone. “If I just wanted to sleep with you, I _would_ have just asked. But that’s not what my intention was then, or now.”

“Well then what-”

“For the past three months, I’ve been trying to pursue a serious relationship with you.” Bruce interrupted stiffly, neck going red. He straightened the collar of his stupid polo shirt, because of course Bruce would think _polo shirts_ were fashionable.

Hal froze, mouth open and everything he was about to say completely gone from his brain as he processed what Bruce had just said. “… _Sorry_?” he asked, leaning forward in bewilderment, because it had sounded like Bruce had just said relationship-

Bruce sighed, the redness around his neck rising up to his ears. “I have been trying to ascertain as to whether you would be interested in me romantically-”

Diana had been right. “You… What?” he asked, looking at Diana for help.

She stared at him blankly from the kitchen window, eating an apple.

“Did you hit your head?” Hal asked finally, not really sure what other explanation there could be. 

Bruce recoiled a little, a snooty, offended look on his face. He looked away haughtily. “_Apparently_, since the very idea of me trying to pursue a relationship with you is so shocking,” he snapped angrily, cheeks flush with colour.

“Don’t get snippy with me, bucko,” Hal snapped back, the nasty tone getting his own back up. “You can’t just spring this shit on me, Spooky! Normal people don’t flirt using hordes of children wearing Kevlar!”

Bruce sighed, jaw working. “I did not flirt with you using my children. And they’re not a horde,” he said snottily. “I set up several romantic dinners only for all of my attempts at showing interest to go straight over your head!”

Hal stared. “Romantic dinners- what romantic dinners?!” he asked, trying to think of any romantic dinners he might have been on with Bruce. None were coming to mind, but then Bruce’s idea of romantic was probably punching criminals and then making out in an alleyway, which Hal was down for anytime, but it wasn’t exactly romantic.

Bruce closed his eyes tightly. “When I invited you to Gotham. Had it not been for Dick’s interruption, I would have told you my feelings,” he said shortly.

Hal stared at the ground, remembering how weird it had been for Bruce to even invite Hal to Gotham in the first place, since Bruce was very much the dark and growly, ‘I work alone’ type. Not to mention it was also weird that Bruce’s butler had offered Hal food, or that there had been a table in Bruce’s manbatcave at all.

And Bruce _had_ been acting prickly with Nightwing.

“And then after the battle in Metropolis, I tried again but Stephanie interfered against my instructions and I had to take her home,” Bruce continued gruffly. His neck was practically giving off steam now, it was so red.

Hal remembered that.

Now that he was thinking about it, it was weird that Bruce, of all people, was bringing him a whole damn roast dinner and help Hal with his injuries-

Come to think of it, Bruce had been hanging around with Hal a lot and always badgering him about his injuries and eating, and then there was the question of why Bruce did keep showing up at-

“Oh,” Hal said, realization dawning on him.

The garden was quiet, and Hal could see Diana still eating the apple as she blatantly watched them from the kitchen, not even bothering to pretend that she wasn’t.

Hal scratched his head, anger giving way to something that felt a lot like sheepishness, which was irritating because none of this was _his_ fault. Bruce hadn’t said a word, so how was Hal supposed to know?

“My children…” Bruce started. “I hadn’t intended on telling them until I had spoken to you, but Damian snuck into my files after seeing a cowl recording of our first meeting. He misunderstood our interactions as me somehow being compromised-”

“The smiling,” Hal realised suddenly, remembering that almost all of the batkids had said something about Bruce smiling at Hal.

Bruce’s neck darkened. “After I explained to him that I was interested in you romantically, he told the others. I realise now that he was excited and that was why. I didn’t think they would do what they did or that they would take it so far. But I also didn’t step in when I should have.”

Hal didn’t quite know what was going on. He knew Bruce was an emotionally repressed nut, but he didn’t think that he would be so repressed that a simple smirk would make his kids trek across the country and harass someone they’d never met.

It was absurd.

But then, Bruce was absurd.

“I apologise for my children and for not putting an end to things sooner,” Bruce said awkwardly. “And for not being more direct. It was difficult-”

Hal could see the struggle Bruce was having to get the words out.

“I didn’t want a one night stand.” Bruce repeated. “I- You- this…” he broke off, jaw clenched.

Hal raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give yourself a heart attack now, Spooky-”

“For a long time, my mission took precedent over my entire life,” Bruce said suddenly, not even reacting to the barb. “The mission was the only thing that mattered, no matter the cost, I would never stop trying to make Gotham a better place.”

Hal knew all about Bruce’s self-imposed mission. It was the source of many of their arguments because Hal thought Bruce took everything too seriously and Bruce though Hal didn’t take enough seriously.

“Sometimes,” Bruce continued, “to the detriment of my family and the people I care about. I have pushed away too many people in pursuit of it, past lovers included. I couldn’t allow myself to falter in my pursuit of the mission, so relationships fell apart and I saw company more as stress relief than…”

There was something fundamentally wrong with a man like Bruce Wayne baring his soul like this.

“My refusal to even consider the possibility of letting another in already drove away my sons and Sel- someone I loved. I didn’t want to make that mistake with you.” Bruce admitted. “I didn’t want you to think it was just casual sex.”

Hal blinked, taken aback by the implication behind the words.

“I wanted you to know that I was serious about a relationship and about my feelings,” Bruce said, eyes boring into Hal. “I, mistakenly, thought that if I eased into things, that it wouldn’t appear as if I was simply treating you as another one night stand.”

Hal wasn’t quite sure how Bruce did it, but somehow, someway, Bruce had managed to turn Hal’s anger at him into feeling sorry for him.

It was wrong, seeing Bruce, the big bad Bat of Gotham City, bumbling around his feelings like a pubescent teenager. And honestly, it wasn’t even nice seeing him acting so pathetic. It was just uncomfortable.

Bruce straightened. “That being said, I understand that after everything that has transpired, you probably aren’t interested in anything but a professional relationship. I can and will keep our relationship strictly professional-”

“God I hate you!” Hal cried, throwing up his hands, hating that stupid, mopey look on Bruce’s face.

Bruce recoiled a little, face shuttering.

“Oh don’t fucking- God you look like a kicked puppy! Don't look at me like that!” Hal shouted. He jabbed a finger at Bruce. “I came out here to be angry at you and all I get is one stupid fucking punch before you start making me feel bad for you! Do you know how utterly infuriating you are?!”

Hal ignored the barely there pout on Bruce’s face.

“I just wanted to shout at you and the maybe drop you in the harbor or throw you off a cliff or something, _but no_, you had to go and act like a big fucking sap, baring your soul like a modern day Romeo!” Hal ranted furiously, absolutely incensed by the fact that he couldn't actually be angry at Bruce, not while Bruce was looking as pathetic as a soaking wet cat. It was just like Bruce to ruin Hal's one chance to get to insult him without Bruce sniping back.

Bruce was staring at him now, mouth open.

“The one chance I get to make you feel bad, the _one time_ I get to yell at you, and you start acting like this! How am I supposed to be angry with you when you’re acting all mopey and pathetic, huh?! You're supposed to argue back so I can yell at you some more, maybe stomp off or slam a door or set Diana on you,” Hal continued, throwing up his hands. “It’s unfair! All of this is your own fault- You could’ve just asked me out like a normal person, god forbid, taken me on a real fuckin’ date instead of taking me on a drug bust in the middle of a Gotham ghetto-”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not romantic, Bruce! Watching you punch criminals, hot, yes, but not romantic!” Hal shouted. “Were you raised by wolves?! Why are you smiling at me like that!?”

Bruce smiled. “So you would go on a date with me, if I asked.”

Hal gaped at Bruce. “Did you listen to a word I said- no, no, don’t you fucking smirk at me!” Hal exploded, waving his hands angrily when Bruce just continued to smirk at him like some sort of deranged vampire. “We are arguing, Bruce, _arguing_!”

Bruce smirked. “Duke was right, you have never been taken out on a date.”

“I hate you so much, Spooky,” Hal hissed, turning on his heel and storming back across the lawn, infuriated and embarrassed. God he was going to kill Bruce, he was going to fling him into the sun-

“Hal, will you go on a date with me?”

“No!” Hal shouted as he stomped back into the house and past a smirking Diana. “Don’t say it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diana is all of us.
> 
> Where’s that meme about Hal being a dramatic bi-sexual because that’s what I was channeling this entire time.
> 
> Had to cut it short cause I just wasn’t finishing any of the extra stuff I had planned.


	9. Alfred Pennyworth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred didn’t come to play and by god, he if has to romance Hal for Bruce, he’ll fuckin do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t see where my readers are from, but I suspect the majority of them are from the US.
> 
> So, if any of my readers are American:
> 
> I’m so sorry about the horrible injustice that’s been done to the Black community with the deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Eric Garner and so many more. I’m sorry that so many Black Americans have lost their lives to police brutality and corrupt systems rife with racism, racial profiling and bigotry. I’m sorry your voices have been met with violence, derision and whataboutism.
> 
> Black Lives Matter. 
> 
> If you are at the protests, keep yourself safe, please. 
> 
> Turn off biometric locks for your phones and have a password instead, so you can’t be forced to unlock it. Don’t wear baggy, loose clothing (like a hoodie) that can be easily grabbed or yanked. Take water with you, since the pigs keep destroying supply stations. Wear running shoes. 
> 
> I don’t know if I should be posting this story right now, since it seems to flippant and blasé in the face of everything going on. But I also know a lot of people turn to fanfiction and AO3 for a break from the real world, so I hope my story will give you some relief, if only for a little while. 
> 
> Please stay safe. Recharge with my shitty jokes and then keep fighting.

Chapter 9: Alfred Pennyworth

Bruce was still there when Hal emerged from his borrowed bedroom.

“Ah, Hal!” Diana said cheerily, waving her phone at him. “We’re just about to order dinner.”

Hal raised an eyebrow. “Order in again?”

Diana shrugged. “I do not enjoy cooking quite as much as some people would think. I find it tedious,” she explained. “Bruce has offered to pay.”

Hal glanced at Bruce, who was sitting at Diana’s fancy island counter, staring at him like a lemming. “What!?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Bruce said, looking away.

Diana raised an eyebrow. “Play nice or I’ll lock you both outside until you can,” she threatened, tapping away on her phone. She sighed as she looked at Hal and then Bruce and then back to Hal. “I’m going to pick the ‘pick up’ option because you two need to talk,” she said.

Hal couldn’t believe she would do this to him again. “We don’t have anything to talk about,” he insisted.

Diana picked up her jumper and shrugged it on. “Then it will be a very quiet twenty minutes minutes,” she said sternly. “No physical fighting. Your government is just itching for reasons to criticize me.”

Hal trailed after her as she swept through her house, collecting her shoes and bag. “I can come with you.”

“Then Bruce would be talking to himself, Hal,” she said indulgently, blocking his way out of the house with her hand and a knowing smile. “You’ll be fine. And if he does try to kill you, yell. I’ll come save you,” she joked.

For some reason, that didn’t fill Hal with much confidence.

“I’ll be back with burgers and more chocolate thickshakes,” Diana said, before she closed the front door in his face.

Hal glowered at the door and debated just up and leaving altogether. He could be back in Coast City in two hours, enough time to stop by Mila’s and get something to eat and then he could crash at Tom’s place.

“Hal,” Bruce said behind him, sounding like he was about to give a eulogy at a funeral.

Hal threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine! Fine!” he said loudly, turning around and pushing past Bruce to stomp back into the kitchen. “We’ll talk!”

Bruce moved silently, but Hal was hyperaware of his presence at his back, as was the Ring. He had never really paid attention to Bruce appearing and disappearing before, or how quietly he moved, but after everything that had happened, he guessed he couldn’t help it now.

Hal dithered by the sink as Bruce took a seat at the island again.

The silence stretched out between them, one minute, then two, then three, and then four.

And Bruce just kept staring at him like the world’s largest stunned mullet. “You were fucking with me before, right?” Hal asked, disliking the heavy silence that was weighing the room down.

Bruce made a low sound. “Have you ever known me to joke?”

Hal squinted and then looked at Bruce incredulously, thinking about the time Bruce had egged him on to ‘shoot’ Superboy. “Yes?”

“About something serious.”

Hal sighed. “I’m not going on a date with you.”

Bruce shifted, watching him with a guarded expression. He was still wearing his polo shirt, but someone, Diana probably, had cleaned off all the twigs and put something on his cheek to stop the swelling.

“I’m not ready for that,” Hal said with a sigh. “Hell, Spooky, I didn’t even know you liked me as a person before today.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Hal bristled defensively. “You’re not exactly mister sunshine and rainbows, you know? You made fun of me in the first five minutes of meeting me, remember?”

Bruce glowered at nothing in particular but didn’t respond.

Hal squinted at Bruce, wondering at the particularly constipated look on Bruce’s face. “… Was- was that you-”

“Yes,” Bruce grunted shortly, folding his arms.

Diana’s kitchen was quiet as Hal digested the fact that apparently Bruce had apparently been flirting with him way back when they had first met. “That long?” he asked, finally unable to hold it in. “You- All this time and you never… said anything?”

“It was never the right time,” Bruce said gruffly.

Hal rubbed his head. “Well my point is, I thought we were just sort of friends and then all of sudden, you want to be a relationship? I… It’s a lot to take in out of the blue,” he explained. “If you just wanted a quick fuck, I’d get it, I mean, I’m me, everyone wants to-”

“Ignoring your planet sized ego,” Bruce ground out snippily, “I don’t _want_ a one night stand-”

“I know! I’m just saying, I would understand it more if you did! But suddenly, out of the blue, you- you want a serious relationship?” Hal asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Bruce, can you seriously not see why this is confusing to me? For god’s sake, I thought you were trying to _kill_ me when you started making a move, which just- doesn’t that tell you something’s kinda fucked in our friendship?”

“Do you really think I would try to kill you?” Bruce asked, and there was a funny look on his face.

Hal felt like an ass. Which was unfair, because _none_ of this was his fault. “… No?”

Bruce looked sad, Hal realized.

“You’re not allowed to do puppy eyes,” Hal said grumpily, looking away. “I know you have your code, Bruce, but…”

“But?”

“But you’ve never exactly liked me, and you were never afraid to tell the rest of the League about how much you thought I was a reckless idiot,” Hal pointed out coolly. “And with you, Diana and Clark ganging up on me every meeting, it was pretty clear where the lines were drawn in the sand.”

Bruce blinked a few times, expression pensive. “You are reckless, and you are an idiot-”

“Oh here we go-”

“Let me finish,” Bruce interrupted, sounding hilariously paternal. “You rush into every situation without thinking and without any regard to your own safety or life. You act as if you’re invincible-”

Hal waved his hand around meaningfully.

“-and when you do get hurt, you don’t even stop, you just keep throwing yourself in there,” Bruce growled, glaring at the Ring darkly.

It bristled at Bruce in return, petulant.

“Sometimes,” Bruce continued, “it’s almost like you want to die, so you can prove something.”

“That’s not true,” Hal said immediately, irritated immediately. Bruce sounded just like John. “I don’t.”

“Maybe not,” Bruce agreed, in a way that made Hal think he didn’t agree at all, “but the way you act makes me _think_ that sometimes you don’t care if you lived or died, as long as the threat was dealt with.”

“We’re superheroes, Bruce, that our job,” Hal said, confused as to why Bruce was even bringing this up. At least Hal wasn’t out there running around in only a bat costume with a pea shooter and some exploding flashbangs for protection.

Bruce sighed, burying his head in his hands in a rather shocking display of emotion. “Yes, Hal,” he said, with the sort of tone that made it sound like he was trying very hard not to yell, “but the way you fight, it scares me.”

Bruce’s words were quiet and resigned. Enough that Hal couldn’t bring himself to retort. He sounded a lot like Hal’s mother or Carol when Hal got into trouble.

“I see you fly in there, half-cocked, without a plan and you get hit and you get back up and go again and you don’t seem to care when you get hurt,” Bruce said and there was a bone tired weariness to his words.

Hal watched Bruce sigh.

“I lost one partner through my own actions,” Bruce admitted. “I won’t lose someone else because they’re too dumb to realise they don’t have anything to prove.”

Hal was actually speechless at Bruce’s ‘confession’, something he always thought was a stupid movie trope.

The Ring purred curiously, almost _flattered_ by Bruce’s words, earlier petulance forgotten.

Hal jammed his hand into the pocket of his sweat pants. “Traitor, whose side are you on?” he hissed at it. It hissed right back at him, giving him the mental equivalent of a pout.

“What?” Bruce asked, lifting his head from his hands.

“Not you,” Hal snapped. “Well, yes you, but I wasn’t talking to you.”

Bruce looked confused but he just shook his head.

Hal wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to say in the face of that. He hadn’t been lying when he had told Bruce that he didn’t even know that they were friends. “… Did you just call me dumb?” he asked, Bruce’s words sinking in.

That got him another sigh and closed eyes. “Of course that’s what you focus on.”

Hal flipped him off half-heartedly.

Silence fell between them.

Hal didn’t really know what to think, in all honesty. He hadn’t honestly, truly, considered that Bruce would ever have romantic feelings for him or any positive feelings at all. He had always just assumed that the respect Bruce had for him was grudging at worst and longsuffering at best.

What’s more, is apparently this wasn’t a recent development either.

How had he not noticed? Bruce wasn’t the most expressive of men, sure, but Hal liked to think he was pretty good at reading people.

“Even with that all on the table,” Hal said quietly, breaking the silence that had stretched between them, “I don’t think I could date you, Bruce.”

Bruce’s lips pressed together tightly.

“I don’t know about later on,” Hal admitted, “but right now? I don’t… I don’t really know you, Bruce. And I don’t think your kids like me very much, or at least, they don’t act like it. I need time to…”

Bruce nodded, looking very much like he wanted to say something. “I understand,” is all he said, however. “I will keep things professional.”

They lapsed into silence again and Hal poked Diana’s fruit idly, wondering how he was going to explain all this to John. His partner would get all uppity about it, because he was constantly harping on about Hal getting his shit together.

Introducing him to Bruce had been a mistake.

The two of them got on far too well.

“They do like you,” Bruce said suddenly, startling Hal out of his thoughts.

“Sorry?”

“My children,” Bruce clarified. “They weren’t doing this to hurt you.”

Hal raised an eyebrow skeptically.

Bruce had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “I think because you were a fellow hero, they just assumed they could act as if they would with me or each other.”

“Your kids routinely break into each other’s houses and move shit around?”

Bruce was silent.

“Bruce!”

“I am aware it’s unhealthy behaviour,” Bruce said shortly. “This entire incident has bought the problem to the forefront. I am working on it.”

Hal pressed his lips together. He wasn’t happy with the idea of young sidekicks in the first place- hell he hadn’t even liked Kyle getting involved with the Lanterns at only twenty two. They shouldn’t be exposed to the sorts of scum the world produced, not before they’d had a chance to be kids. “I don’t want them operating in Coast City.”

“Dick and Jason are adults.”

Hal stared at Bruce until Bruce looked away.

“Tim and Damian are benched, and the others have been confined to Gotham’s city limits,” Bruce said finally.

“On your orders?” Hal asked, only because none of Bruce’s kids actually seemed to care about listening to Bruce’s instructions. Big bad bat, Hal’s ass, those kids had Bruce wrapped around their grubby little mitts.

“On Alfred’s,” Bruce replied.

“Your butler?”

“He’s more than a butler-”

There was a bang of the front door opening. “Honey!” Diana called jokingly. “I’m home!”

Hal snorted as she ambled into the kitchen, holding a giant paper bag and one of those cardboard cupholders with three pink cups. “Who’s honey? Me or him?”

She shrugged. “Both?”

“Have you been watching sitcoms again?” Bruce demanded, looking like a chicken that had just had its feathers ruffled.

Diana smiled, setting the bag down and shrugging her bag off, leaving it on the kitchen table. Why she needed both a fancy formal dining room, a kitchen table and an island counter with stools, Hal didn’t know.

Rich people.

“I like them. And so does J’onn,” Diana said easily. “How did your talk go? The house is still in one piece, so I can only guess it was somewhat productive?”

“Somewhat,” Bruce agreed shortly.

Diana glanced at Hal in question.

He shrugged. “We figured it out. Mostly.”

* * *

True to Bruce’s word, he didn’t say a word to Hal about the disastrous ‘confession’ or anything to do with a relationship. He was the picture of the typical Bat professionalism, which meant he was back to brooding in the corner and calling Hal an idiot over comms.

But he gave Hal space.

There was never any expectation of romance or reciprocation whenever he did talk to Hal. He kept their conversations on topic and had Hal not known about Bruce’s feelings, he would have just assumed things were the same between them.

Barry didn’t see it quite like that and had taken it upon himself to act as a sort of guard dog. It didn’t work so well, since Barry was about as intimidating as a labradoodle, but he tried hard and Hal appreciated it.

And it was kind of funny watching Barry trying to square up with a guy who had a better poker face than most professional poker players. He filmed it for John, not that he would tell Barry that.

Though Bruce hadn’t actually been the problem.

The problem had been his gigantic horde of children with more boundary issues than Hal knew what to do with.

But also true to Bruce’s word, none of them had made another appearance in Hal’s life. ‘Richie’ Wayne didn’t make show up in Coast City again, Black Bird or Bat or whatever, didn’t reappear to stalk Hal, no one showed up to harass him on missions with the League.

None of his things went missing, his shit stopped moving itself around when he wasn’t looking and all of his missing toothpaste had mysteriously showed up in the mailbox, wrapped neatly in brown paper, his name scrawled on the top in chicken scratch.

There was no batgirl, no Duke, no Damian, no one judging his shitty taste in furniture or breaking into his house to talk at him.

A repair guy had showed up one day to fix his cabinets, all paid for by some ‘a little kid with floppy hair’.

_And_, Hal had a brand spanking new fridge with a fancy screen that he could tweet shirtless pics from. It even came with a built in filter jug and an ice cube maker.

Carol hadn’t even yelled. But she had told Tom and Tom followed Hal around for two weeks giving him puppy dog eyes and asking if he was okay.

He got a few more sessions with Dinah and she had encouraged him to take up boxing again regularly. It had helped, because the first few nights back from Diana’s, Hal hadn’t slept well, too worried he was going to wake up to more mysterious cups and missing toothpaste.

In the few weeks since he and Bruce had talked however, Hal had been feeling less hunted and less like he always needed to be looking over his shoulder.

The mailbox squeaked as Hal yanked it open, the rusty hinges screeching loudly. Scowling at it, Hal banged on the little metal door a few times, shaking some of it loose before he reached in and swiped the giant stack of junk mail catalogues and sleezy auto-insurance and gold buyers envelopes.

Thankfully the building management had shoved a rubbish bin into a corner of the lobby and Hal tossed the junk into it, one after another after he had checked it wasn’t actually important. He was nearly at the end of the giant, sticky stack, when he found a heavy, fancy looking envelope, his name printed on it in neat, looping calligraphy.

Hal dropped the rest of the stack into the garbage can without bothering to check it, intrigued at who would be sending him fancy letters. It reminded him of the invites he used to get to go to fancy galas with the upcoming starlet of the month*.

He ripped the envelope trying to get it open and pulled a face, knowing Carol would be upset he had ruined such nice paper. Why she liked keeping it, he never understood.

The letter inside was the same, thick, slightly rough paper and Hal wondered at how expensive it must have been as he unfolded it.

_Dear Captain Jordan…_

* * *

“Looks like they’re expecting ya,” the cab driver said as he pulled up to the fancy wrought iron gates surrounding the Wayne Estate. The gates were sitting open, a fancy paved driveway cutting through the plush green grass of the front lawn. “You want me to drive you down there?”

“Nah, I got it from here,” Hal said. “How much do I owe you?”

“Uh, fifty one,” the cabbie said, chewing on his toothpick as he stabbed at his meter. “You know Mista Wayne or something? I bring lotsa people up here and none of them have been welcomed with an open gate.”

“Uh, something like that,” Hal said awkwardly.

“Ah, job interview, got it,” the cabbie guessed confidently, pressing Hal’s card against his little EFTPOS machine. “Well, good luck to ya. Mista Wayne pays well and he’s got that big campus in Gotham downtown, so you know he treats his employees well.”

“Thanks,” Hal said, getting out of the car.

The cabbie gave him a thumbs up before doing a jerky looking U-Turn and beetling off down the winding road.

Hal shook his head and started down the impeccably kept driveway. The paving stones were a creamy colour and he wondered at the fact that they hadn’t discoloured at all, especially with the amount of rain Gotham got.

As he walked, he started to realise just how rich Bruce actually was. He had always know Bruce was a billionaire, but it was one thing to know that and another entirely to _know_ that. Ollie had always flaunted his wealth in the cheesiest way, champagne showers and completely inappropriate bright pink suits, but this was old money at its finest.

The front lawn looked like every postcard Hal had ever seen and there was even what looked like a dog training course under a fancy looking shade cloth.

And for some reason, there were headless animal shrubs lining the driveway. He had never got the trend of having bushes shaped like animals, but it was less weird than _decapitated_ animal shrubs.

Wayne Manor itself was huge, castle looking building, with a tower and more windows than Hal cared to count. It looked like one of those fancy Aspen houses, but with darker stone.

Hal stared at the giant fountain in the middle of the circular driveway that led up to what had to be a garage, only this garage had six doors.

“Must be where he keeps all of his Ferraris,” Hal muttered, eyeing a giraffe shrub that was missing a leg and its head.

Hal stared at it warily, wondering why if all of the heads had all been cut off by accident, or if this was some weird East Coast gardening trend.

He knew people in Gotham were fucking weird but seeing a headless shrub llama was just disturbing.

And Hal had seen Sinestro as Parallax.

The oversized front door swung open before he could knock and Bruce’s butler, Alfred, was standing there, impeccably dressed in a full suit and waistcoat, making Hal’s jacket and jeans feel shabby in comparison. “Ah, Captain,” Alfred said pleasantly, “you’re right on time.”

“Ah, yeah-” Hal glanced at the headless animal shrubs. “Is that supposed to be like that?”

Alfred leaned out of the oversized door to look at the decapitated shrubs and sighed, a distinctly irritated air around him. “It is not, but Masters Jason and Damian thought they would have a competition as to who was better at swordplay.”

Hal still didn’t know why Damian even had a sword. “… Who won?” he asked, morbidly curious as he imagined stabby little Damian swiping the heads off bush llamas.

“The gardener,” Alfred said, tone drier than the Sahara as he stepped back and ushered Hal inside. “He’s charging me a thousand dollars just to have them trimmed back.”

Hal didn’t know if that was expensive or not. He had only owned one plant in his entire life, and he’d knocked it off the balcony railing the day after Dinah gave it to him. “Can’t you just wait for them to grow back?”

“Unfortunately not,” Alfred said. “We’re having a birthday party in a few weeks and if the garden is out of order, tongues will start wagging and that is the last thing I need right now. May I take your jacket?”

Hal looked down at his father’s jacket, unaware he hadn’t taken it off, and was in fact holding the collar tightly. He almost never checked his father’s jacket, too afraid someone would make off with it or ruin it. “Uh-”

“Actually, we are taking our tea in the garden and there was a breeze earlier this morning, so it may be best for you to keep it on,” Alfred said abruptly. “You caught me running behind schedule so I’m a bit out of sorts. I hope you don’t mind that I’m still preparing our morning tea.”

“Do you want help?” Hal asked as he trailed Alfred through the foyer, staring down at the shiny white marble tile and then up at the vaulted ceiling far above them. “I’m not a good cook, but I can follow instructions like nobodies business.”

Alfred showed Hal through a bland set of hallways and finally opened a plain looking door into a kitchen that would make Hal’s mother squeal with girlish delight. “The scones are just finishing up in the oven, but I wouldn’t say no to help cutting the strawberries.”

Hal hung his father’s jacket over one of the barstools at the island carefully and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

For a few minutes, they worked in amicable silence, with Alfred fussing around with the oven and a delicate looking china set, setting out a pot of milk and a little side bowl of jam and butter.

Hal was doing his best not to mangle the strawberries too much, but he kept getting distracted by the delicious aroma of something brewing on the stovetop. It smelled vaguely herbal, with just a hint of cinnamon. Whatever it was, Hal would bet his left nut it was delicious.

“Cream, I think,” Alfred said to himself. “And I must ask Master Bruce to bring some blueberries for Damian’s breakfast…”

Hal watched him for a few minutes, wondering if all the Batkids still lived at home. Even if the manor was huge, Hal couldn’t imagine trying to keep it clean or keep all of the horde fed, especially with how much Hal knew Bruce could pack away. “How do you manage, looking after them all?” he asked curiously.

“It’s not so difficult,” Alfred said. “Master Bruce makes things rather easy, since money is never a problem. Although there were considerably less farm animals in my previous role.”

“Farm animals?” Hal asked as he put the strawberries in a bowl while Alfred spooned whipped cream into a bowl. He tucked a few of the more mangled pieces under the rest, so Alfred wouldn’t see them.

Alfred heaved a sigh, eyes closing briefly. “Young Master Damian has seen fit to adopt a cow. Rescued, he likes to tell me, from the slaughterhouse.”

“A cow?” Hal repeated, looking around in surprise. “Like a- like a moo cow?”

“Yes, it is rather loud,” Alfred said, mixing some sugar into the cream. “Will you get the scones out of the oven, please?”

Hal obliged. “And Bruce let him?” he asked, several things starting to make sense in his head.

“It’s not a matter of _let_, with Master Damian, I’m afraid,” Alfred sighed, but there was a fond smile on his face. “He does as he wishes and in this case, the cause was a noble one. Even if that damn thing has been at my rose bushes again.”

Hal was struggling to reconcile the idea of Bruce with any sort of farm animal, but more than that he was starting to think that _maybe _the cow Dick and Stephanie had mentioned was Damian’s cow.

What had Dick said? How did Hal feel about cows?

Again, it wasn’t _Hal’s _fault he didn’t automatically think they were talking about a _real_ cow. He didn’t even know cows lived in Gotham.

“And I think we’re just about done,” Alfred said as he poured the contents of the pot into a delicate looking china teapot. “Would you mind carrying the tray for me, Captain?”

“I got it,” Hal said, draping his jacket over one arm and then picking up the tray of warm scones. He felt a bit bad because he had completely forgotten to pick up something as a gift, especially since Alfred had gone all out and baked scones for the occasion.

He could just see his mother’s disappointed expression.

The back ‘patio’, if it could even be called that, was huge and Hal squinted in disbelief when he saw that Bruce had not one, but _two_ pools, one in a fancy looking glass building, and another outside. There were fancy plants everywhere and the ‘backyard’ was larger than Hal’s entire childhood house.

“Here we are,” Alfred said pleasantly, setting his pot of tea down on a table under a cozy pagoda. He smiled at Hal warmly. “Shall we sit?”

* * *

“_Sixteen_ varieties?” Hal exclaimed in disbelief. “I don’t even know sixteen different flowers let alone varieties of roses!”

Alfred smiled. “I’m sure that’s not true. You may not know the names, but you seem to have an eye for colour,” he said, nodding at Hal.

Hal glanced down at his shirt. He had always been ‘fashionable’, much to his older brothers’ irritation, but it was less fashion and just getting things that fitted him. “Why roses?” he asked.

“They’re difficult and delicate flowers,” Alfred said. “Temperamental things, really. I enjoy the challenge of getting them to bloom and also because Mrs. Collins next door never fails to boast about her own gardens, as if she doesn’t have new rose bushes planted each year.”

Hal laughed and took a sip of his tea. Just as he had thought, the blend Alfred had made was absolutely delicious and Hal ordinarily didn’t enjoy tea. “So you do it to spite your rich neighbours?”

“I’m British,” Alfred said with a sly smile. “We have mastered the art of passive aggressive politeness.”

Having worked with a few Brits, Hal could agree that no one did disdain and unimpressed like they did.

For a few moments, the pagoda was quiet, and Hal relished in the quiet that he rarely got in the city. It was rather calming, listening to the wind in the trees and having the sun warming his shoulders. Not to mention the scones were delicious and the tea was even more so.

Still, Hal couldn’t help but wonder, as he had been ever since he had gotten Alfred’s letter inviting him to tea at the manor, _why_.

Now that Hal knew that Bruce wasn’t trying to kill him, Hal knew that Alfred most likely wasn’t in on the kids plotting. But still, Hal couldn’t understand why Alfred would invite him over, or why he had done it without Bruce being present.

“… Why did you invite me here today?” Hal asked finally. He hadn’t wanted to be rude, especially since Alfred had made him food. But he had to know. It was eating at him.

Alfred took a bite of his scone pensively, topped with some of the berries and cream he had made. “I felt terrible for how my family treated you over the last few months,” he said after finishing his bite. “I wanted to apologise for their actions and had hoped to repair at least some of the damage done. Not for their sake, but for Master Bruce, as I know it raised tensions at book club.”

Hal thought about Barry’s doggedness in heading Bruce off and Diana’s quiet disappointment. “And to tell me they’re good kids and they made a mistake?” Hal joked bitterly.

“I’m not going to tell you anything of the sort,” Alfred said sharply.

Hal got the feeling Alfred was actually rather offended by the question.

Alfred set his cup down and picked up his butter knife. “All of them are old enough to know right from wrong and understand that there will be consequences for their actions. I am not so blinded by my love for them to excuse their actions.”

Hal was surprised. Pleasantly so. “… Thanks.”

“You are most welcome,” Alfred said. “They have been suitably punished and I am confident that nothing like this should ever occur again.”

“And if it does?” Hal asked, morbidly curious. Alfred seemed rather docile and sweet, but from their conversation, Hal could see there was a lot of steel in the man as well.

Alfred pressed his lips together. “It won’t happen again,” he said, a tone of finality in his voice, though it wasn’t directed at Hal. “I can assure you of that, Captain Jordan.”

“Just Hal is fine,” Hal said finally. He’d loved the idea of being an Air Force Captain when he was a boy, just like his dad was. But after everything that had happened to him, Hal didn’t have the same naïve view about serving his country the way he used to. And now, when people addressed him like that, it just seemed so tacky and boot.

He understood why his father had always seemed uncomfortable when Hal asked to see his medals.

Hal didn’t like looking at his either.

Alfred didn’t even blink. “Of course, my apologies.”

“It’s fine, it’s just…” Hal fiddled with the delicate teacup, suddenly feeling like he was bumbling, clumsy idiot trying to play tea party.

Alfred didn’t say anything, only sitting in dignified silence.

Hal sighed.

“It is a funny thing,” Alfred said quietly, “to serve ones country. Many people think it is the act of truly selfless individuals, but I know I didn’t join out any desire to lay down my life for my country.”

Hal thought about his reasons for joining. “I just wanted to fly,” he admitted. “My dad was the best pilot they ever had and the first time I saw him fly, I just knew I wanted to do it as well. I was meant to be in the air. And the only place to do that was…”

Alfred hummed. “Joining the army was _expected_ of young men my age,” he agreed. “I never quite understood war. It all seemed rather… pointless in my opinion. Grown men, squabbling over lines on a piece of paper or what some old dusty book says.”

“Spoken like a true vet,” Hal said, thinking about Harris’ leg. “Seems like a noble cause until you get there and all the guys calling the shots are safe in some command tent a hundred klicks away.”

“Indeed,” Alfred said, voice darkening slightly, eyes faraway. “Indeed, Master Hal.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, Alfred seemingly lost in thought as he gazed out over the sprawling back lawns of the Wayne Manor.

Hal had never really thought he would meet someone who would be able to relate to him, especially no in Bruce’s circle.

Bruce was one of the good rich ones, but even then, Hal could still see the lines in the sand between Bruce and the rest of the world. There were things that Bruce just wouldn’t get.

“Still,” Alfred said quietly, “I don’t regret it.”

Hal had to concede that it wasn’t all bad. He wouldn’t’ve met many of his friends if he didn’t join the Air Force. And he wouldn’t’ve made his dad proud. “No,” he admitted. “What’d you end up doing after? Before… you came to work for Bruce- and how did that happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all.” Alfred said, leaning forward to put another scone on Hal’s plate. “After my time in the army, I was… recruited for another organisation that worked for her Majesty. Though this one had less young men posturing around training fields.”

Hal cocked his head curiously. The only thing he could think of was Butler School, which he wasn’t even sure was real or not, but then was there a Butler School for the Queen?

“Of course, at the time, I wasn’t aware it was MI5,” Alfred said mildly.

Hal inhaled his tea sharply, blinking a few times. “Wait, wait, wait, like James Bond?!” he asked excitedly, unsure if Alfred was fucking with him. Because _of course_ Bruce would have a secret agent butler. 

“Certainly not!” Alfred sniffed in affront, looking disapproving at the mere mention of James Bond. “Where Hollywood got the idea that secret agents could carry on torrid affairs with every woman that caught their fancy, I do not know, but it is utterly ridiculous.”

Hal snickered at the obvious irritation in Alfred’s voice.

“More than one mission has been lost because men cannot think with more than one head at one given time-”

Hal choked on his next sip of tea at the sudden vulgarity, so out of place in Alfred’s prim and proper British accent. He coughed his tea all over his scone, trying not to laugh.

“And we certainly did not make a habit of announcing _our names_ at every available opportunity,” Alfred continued. “A secret agent… Honestly.”

Wiping his mouth, Hal laughed at the offended, irritated look on Alfred’s face. “It’s a code name!” he said jokingly. “James Bond is just what they’re called when they’re in the double o seven mindset.”

Alfred had mastered looking unimpressed as he stared at Hal over the rim of his teacup.

“No?” Hal joked.

“No.”

“It’s not even a little bit right?”

“How accurate are those superhero movies about you and the rest of the Justice League?” Alfred asked pointedly.

Hal thought about the witty back and forth the Justice League in the movie had had going on and then thought about the time he tried to engage Barry in witty banter. Bruce had yelled at them and then called them idiots, and that was after one of the goons smacked Hal in the face while he was distracted trying to think of something funny. “… Point taken.”

Alfred hummed. “James Bond is the Hollywood version of a secret agent. All flash and peacocking with very little substance behind the eyes. That man couldn’t sneak his way out of a dark, empty room without managing to shoot something.”

“… Is there a reason why you’re not Batman?” Hal asked, only half-jokingly. Alfred wasn’t frightening by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a damn sight more intimidating than Bruce in his bat costume.

“I use a shotgun,” Alfred said mildly. “And I’ve been told that it would be unfair to bring a shotgun to a riddle fight.”

Hal laughed at that. Despite Alfred’s thin appearance and grey hair, somehow it was easy to imagine him blasting away with a shotgun.

Alfred smiled and shook his head. “Anyway, my time in MI5 was instructive and I believed in the work I was doing, but eventually grew disillusioned with the lack of transparency and some of the orders I was given went against my moral compass,” he explained. “So I left.”

“So how did you go from secret agent in MI5 to being a butler for Bruce?”

“One of my former colleagues introduced me to Lady Wayne- she was in the market for a bodyguard as her work at Wayne Enterprises was causing some strife with the existing power structure.”

Hal cocked his head at the tidbit. “Just her?”

Alfred nodded once, cupping his hands around his teacup carefully. “As I imagine Ms. Ferris’ own experiences have taught you, women are hardly invited into places of power. More so back then, when she was expected to be nothing more than a lady of high society.”

Hal blinked. “Wait… so Mrs. Wayne was behind Wayne Enterprises?”

“Publicly?” Alfred said. “No. But privately, very much so. Master Thomas left most, if not all, of the running of Wayne Enterprises to her while he focused on medicine. It worked well for them, since he had never been interested in business or money and she was much more ruthless when it came to business matters.”

“Is that where Bruce gets it from?”

Alfred’s smile was slow and fond. “Yes. He gets a lot from his mother. She was an intimidating woman in the board room and as soft as kittens when it came to Master Bruce,” he said, eyes wistful. “She would have liked you, I think.”

“I don’t know about that,” Hal joked. “An irresponsible flyboy like me? Hardly the picture of high society.”

Alfred hummed. “She always worried about Master Bruce. He was a quiet child, quite shy and very empathetic, so he often got lost in his own head. She would have liked him to have a friend like you when he was young. Someone loud and energetic to pull him out of his shell.”

“Bruce was shy?!” Hal exclaimed in delight.

“Oh very much so,” Alfred said. “He was quite a clingy little thing as well, toddling around after his mother while she ran Wayne Enterprises. His favourite thing to do was to sit with her while she worked on the books and when it came time for him to start school, he threw the worst tantrum I have ever seen.”

Hal grinned. “Oh did he?”

Alfred leaned forward, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Shrieking and screaming like you wouldn’t believe. Threw his bowl of porridge at the dog and then pitched a fit on the steps of Gotham Academy when Lady Wayne tried to leave.”

Hal imagined a miniature Bruce wailing and screaming while clinging onto the skirts of his mother and snorted with laughter. “Oh this is great, keep the blackmail coming, Alfred.”

“Oh and we haven’t even gotten to the best part,” Alfred said conspiratorially. “When he returned, he was in such a snit that he packed up his schoolbag with a can of baked beans, a banana, one of his father’s ties and his blanket and made his grand escape.”

Hal laughed loudly, tucking every detail away to bring up the next time he saw Bruce. It was the most ammo Hal had had since the time Bruce’s grapple had broken and Hal had caught him, bridal style.

“He came into the kitchen and announced to his mother and I that he was leaving and not to look for him,” Alfred said with a chuckle. “And then he was off! Stomping across the lawn, looking back every so often to see if we were going to chase after him.”

Hal could see where this was going, because it sounded just like Helen’s tantrums.

“But he told us not to look for him, so of course we weren’t,” Alfred continued. He sighed fondly. “The poor thing got to that tree over there before bursting into tears and collapsing.”

“Oh god, that’s too good,” Hal said, snickering as he imagined stoic, gruff Bruce stomping around to see if anyone would notice. “Hasn’t grown out of the dramatics, has he?”

Alfred sighed, rolling his eyes as he sipped his tea. “I did suggest alternate approaches to crime rates,” he said dryly. “But Master Bruce does as he will, much like all of his children.”

Hal snorted. “… Where are they, anywhere? I would have thought they’d be all over the place.”

The plates clinked as Alfred poured himself more tea. “They’re out for the day. I thought it might put you at ease if we had the place to ourselves.”

“Is that British-speak for, ‘I kicked them out’?” Hal asked, liking Alfred more and more.

“Oh nothing so violent, I assure you,” Alfred said with a pleased smile. “I simply asked them to be elsewhere for the day and thye kindly obliged an old man.”

“Uh huh,” Hal said, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “And how long does this last?”

Alfred held the teapot meaningfully at Hal’s empty teacup, “until I say otherwise,” he said simply. “More tea?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Originally, I had a scene with Tim/Hal/Bruce and Hal/Dami/Bruce but they made the chapter like 12k words and also, the bit with Damian could have been seen as manipulating Hal, which I didn't want.
> 
> I did donate what I could to BLM and the GFM's for Breonna Taylor and George Floyd. I donate to orgs here in Aus as well, aimed at reducing the disparity between Indigenous Australians and Non-Indigenous Australians.
> 
> Please keep yourselves safe.


	10. Barbara Gordon (and Roger, and Tim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal eats more food, because apparently I have to include some sort of food in everything I write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me tooth and nail. You will be able to tell because it's shit. Nothing happens. it's just 6400 words of pure garbage.
> 
> I am really unhappy with it, but I have to post it so I can move on.
> 
> Thankfully the next chapter is far better.

Hal was annoying Ollie by tagging him Instagram memes about how Bruce was a cooler billionaire, when the message request came through.

Most of the time, the messages Hal got on Instagram were from Russian porn bots, scammy drop shipping companies or some desperate idiot trying to recruit for their latest mlm.

He clicked on it anyway, preparing to block whoever it was and move on with his quest to drive Ollie up the wall.

The rivalry between Ollie and Bruce was hilarious to Hal, since it was essentially two grown men bickering over who was cooler, all the while pretending to be above it all. It always led to some ridiculous posturing and absurd amounts of money being tossed around. The last time it had happened, they had ended up paying off student loans for an entire cohort of graduates from Star and Gotham city universities.

When Hal got into his messages, it wasn’t a porn bot spamming links at him, or weirdos asking him to be a part of their downline. Instead, Hal found an actual message waiting for him in his inbox.

_BabsBabsBabs wants to send you a message._

_Hey Hal, you don’t know me but I’m Barbara Gordon, a friend of Dick’s. I heard about what he did, and I wanted to apologise and ask if you might be up for grabbing lunch? On me, ofc, but I feel really bad for what happened. Please don’t feel pressured or anything, I totally understand if you don’t want anything to do with us._

Hal squinted at the message, wondering if it was real or if it was just a reporter fishing for something. The Waynes were pretty popular on social media and someone had probably seen Dick out and about in Coast City when he had visited Hal.

But the message seemed to imply that whoever Babsbabsbabs was, she knew about the other things that had happened as well.

Hal tapped on her name.

He profile was public, and Hal saw she was a pretty redhead, maybe around Dick’s age. She wore round glasses and hideous sweaters that would make Clark proud.

Hal scrolled through her page idly. Most of her pictures were of various different take out meals and cups of coffee, though there was the occasional one of her and some very familiar young men with dark hair and blue eyes. There was even one with a grumpy looking Damian.

The latest picture on her page was one of a very pathetic looking Dick Grayson, standing in Alfred’s kitchen, holding a silver pot with blackened something around the rim. He was obviously being lectured by someone off camera, if the miserable expression on his face was anything to go by.

_He burnt the gravy and got yelled at for ruining dinner, _the caption read.

Underneath, someone called Stephcakes had commented, _he put it on everything babs, and my mouth tasted like burnt for hours._

Hal realized that Stephcakes must be Stephanie and when he checked her page, he saw that it was her, recognising her picture. Her page wasn’t nearly as put together as Barbara’s, in fact it was just a collection of chaotic, blurry photos of food and dark nights.

Hal went back to the message and saw that she had sent her number, along with another message assuring him not to feel obligated.

Hal had never felt obligated to do anything in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now.

His phone buzzed with an incoming facetime from Ollie and he grinned, forgetting all about the odd message.

“Bruce Wayne is not cooler than me!” Ollie blustered, giving Hal a great view up his nose. “Dinah, stop laughing!”

* * *

Hal didn’t even try to suppress his groan when Bruce pulled up yet another document on the meeting room screen.

Bruce turned around, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Do you have something to say?”

“We had a meeting yesterday,” Hal whined, letting the chair fall back onto it’s weird one leg with a bang. “Do we really need a second one to go over the nitty gritty of Lex Luthor’s dealings with the Chinese mob?”

Bruce stared at him blankly.

“It’s Friday,” Hal said pointedly. “So…”

“Got a hot date, Lantern?” Arthur asked from where he was tapping away furiously on his phone.

“Yeah, it’s in my fridge,” Hal grumbled. “Look, Spooky-”

Bruce looked supremely unimpressed as he took them in. Barry was quite clearly asleep, and Victor was staring off into the distance blankly. The only one paying attention was Clark, and even then, Hal didn’t believe it.

Shazam had dipped out hours ago, saying something about needing to go to class and Hal wished _he_ was a fifteen year old with black hair and blue eyes. If only because then Bruce would be legally obligated to be nice to him.

Bruce turned back to the screen with a flourish of his cape. “As I was saying-”

Hal groaned louder this time, sliding down in his chair in defeat.

* * *

“Would it kill you to at least pretend to pay attention?” Bruce said snippily as Hal walked into the control room. All the others had left after Bruce’s six hundred slide PowerPoint and Hal would have to, if not for the fact that he knew Bruce was going to obsess over this like the overgrown drama queen he was.

“Would it kill you not to call a meeting on a Friday?” Hal shot back, watching the plate of cookies he had balanced on one of the cups of coffee. “I had plans.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really,” Hal said, carefully setting the coffee cups down. He grinned at Bruce triumphantly, but Bruce ignored him. “A gave me some of his special tea blend and I got a cheesecake from Arnies that would have gone perfectly with it.”

Bruce picked up one of the cups. “Yes, because Luthor is going to wait for you to eat your cheesecake.”

Hal hooked a foot around the chair Bruce wasn’t using and dragged it towards himself before throwing himself into it. He propped his feet up on the desk. “Is it really going to make a difference what day we go over his crimes? We’re just going to bust his money grubbing, over-compensating ass anyway.”

“Must you?” Bruce asked, prodding Hal’s feet away testily.

“I must,” Hal said lazily.

Bruce shook his head, no doubt rolling his eyes behind his cowl. “We need the case to be airtight,” he said primly before taking a sip of the coffee Hal had made and grimacing.

“See it’s gross, right?” Hal said, making a construct to pick up one of the cookies. Diana had sprung for the good ones and he was going to take what he could get, since it would be far too late to enjoy his cake and tea when he did eventually get home. “Think you can spare some of your billions to get us a coffee machine that doesn’t make everything taste like boiled dirt?”

Bruce snorted.

“C’mon, I had to deal with all that bullshit in the Air Force,” Hal said. “Is it too much to ask for that a man gets good coffee?”

Bruce put the cup down, pushing it away. “I’ll look into it,” he said, which was just code for ‘a new one with gold plated cups and a diamond filter will be delivered post haste’. “Did you need something?”

Hal grinned, chewing on his cookie. “Not really. I just heard a fun little story about you the other day and I wanted to share.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, something about throwing porridge at the dog?”

Bruce froze, hands hovering over the keyboard.

“And then I think there was something about packing up a blankie and a banana?”

“It wasn’t a blankie-” Bruce said immediately before cutting himself off. He scowled at Hal. “Who told you about that?”

“A.”

That got him a dark glower, and something muttered in French. “You shouldn’t believe everything you’re told,” Bruce said darkly, definitely pouting.

“So this picture of you and Nightwing in matching purple velour tracksuits is photoshopped?” Hal asked with a grin, waving his phone at Bruce meaningfully. “Or is this your clone? Your evil twin? Another Spooky from a parallel dimension-” Hal yelped and nearly fell out of his chair in his haste to get away when Bruce swiped at his phone.

Hal burst into laughter at the red flush he could just barely see on the underside of Bruce’s jaw.

“This is a look, Spooks,” Hal teased, looking down at the picture Alfred had sent him, making sure to float just out of grabbing range. “But not a good one.”

In the photo, Dick couldn’t have been more than ten, a scrappy kid who barely came up to Bruce’s hip. Bruce looked much the same, though the bags under his eyes weren’t as pronounced. They were standing in front of the manor doors, looking like something out of a nineties music video in their matching tracksuits.

Alfred had told Hal the admittedly cute story behind it, Dick had been having a ‘Dad’s Day’ at school and they had all had to go dressed up. It was very cute that Bruce had taken it seriously, especially because he couldn’t have been more than twenty seven or twenty eight at the time.

“Nightwing gets very excited-”

“Uh huh,” Hal said, chortling at the picture. “Is this why you pay for a family stylist?”

Bruce swiped for the phone again, definitely pouting. “You are _infuriating_,” he growled.

“Aw c’mon Spooky,” Hal goaded, grinning. “I think it’s adorable. You and the kiddos wearing matching clothes- tell me, do you all have a set that you wear on family outings? Like one of those weird redneck families at Disneyland.”

“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” Bruce muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Just like I’m never going to let go of that time I caught and carried you like a blushing bride- You remember that? What was the channel that made a montage of the time League members caught you like that-Ah!”

Bruce’s arm was like iron around Hal’s neck, but he wasn’t holding him very hard, or pulling like Jim used to.

It was _slightly _annoying that he was managing to hold Hal with one arm, while the other snatched Hal’s phone away.

Hal staggered when Bruce let him go, laughing at the put out expression on Bruce’s face as he tapped away on Hal’s phone. “I’m going to make a Christmas card out of that. Send it to all your business buddies.”

“If you do that, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Hal asked, grinning. “Shame me? You _can’t _shame me, I was in the Air Force, Spooks, my capacity for shame is nonexistent. It has to be after you share a bathroom with the whole base and half of those people have seen you streaking across the tarmac wearing cat ears and pink booty shorts.”

Bruce looked mildly revolted by the revelation, eyebrows crinkling as he stared at Hal with a mixture of disgust and confusion.

“You ever seen Top Gun?” Hal asked. “Well it’s like that, but with more dick jokes.”

“This is what my taxes are paying for,” Bruce murmured, shaking his head. “For you to run around making unfunny dick jokes.”

“Well, now I do it and the UN picks up the bill,” Hal said with a wink.

Bruce grunted, turning away.

Hal leaned on the desk next to Bruce, folding his arms. “So the drama queen thing started when you were a baby?” he teased.

Bruce looked over at him, expression long suffering.

“Were you a theatre kid? Is that were the ‘I am the night’ came from?” Hal asked, putting his arm in front of his face, as if he was holding a cape up. He laughed at the offended look on Bruce’s face.

“Letting you and A meet was a mistake,” Bruce muttered. “Thank god you and Red Hood haven-”

“Who_ is_ Red Hood- A couple of your kiddos- What?” Hal asked, seeing that Bruce wasn’t paying attention to him and was instead glaring down at Hal’s phone. Hal started when he saw Bruce was in his Instagram messages. “Hey- Do you mind?!”

“The notification popped up,” Bruce said defensively, locking Hal’s phone. “Has Oracle been bothering you?”

Hal snatched his phone back, guarding it with his hands protectively. “… Who?”

Bruce tapped the phone screen with a scowl. “I’ll speak to her,” he said.

Hal unlocked his phone and saw that Bruce had been reading the messages from someone called _babsbabsbabs_. It took a moment for Hal to remember the odd message he had received nearly two weeks ago but when he did, he realized that Barbara Gordon must be Oracle. “Wait, that’s Oracle?” he asked.

“Yes, though I thought Oracle would at least…” Bruce scowled and looked away, fingers flying over the keyboard again. “I’ll speak to her. I apologise.”

“I thought Oracle was an AI,” Hal said absently. He had heard rumours about the mythical Oracle and the speculation that it was actually an AI, given how much information must have been going through at any one time. “You’re saying Oracle is one person?”

Bruce frowned at him. “Yes, and that one person knows better,” he said bitterly, looking down at the keyboard.

Hal knew a disappointed parent when he saw one. That look was ingrained in his head from the numerous times his mother had given it to him. “Well this is better than breaking into my place and breaking my fridge,” he said. “And she’s not being pushy. She just wants lunch.”

Bruce heaved a sigh. “You… don’t have to respond to her,” he said awkwardly. “Or accept her offer-”

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to,” Hal said easily. “Besides, I get free lunch.”

Bruce sighed again, longsuffering. “If only our enemies knew all it takes to sway you is the prospect of free food,” he muttered sarcastically.

“Well now you know how to stay on my good side.”

* * *

Gotham was a bit like New York in the sense that in the summertime it felt like the air was made of water and everything stunk of wet dog and sweat.

Hal found the address Barbara had given him with little problem, looking up at the modern apartment block that had one of those fancy greenery walls. He would bet his left nut that Bruce owned it.

In fact, Bruce probably owned this entire street.

Or something.

“Hey!”

Hal looked around and saw a red headed woman on the front porch of the apartment block. She was sitting in a wheelchair and wearing stylish round glasses. He had to blink a few times before recognising her as Barbara Gordon. “Oh-” he swallowed and looked away from the high tech wheelchair she was sitting in. “Barbara?”

“That’s me!” she said, rolling herself down the ramp next to the stairs expertly.

Hal dithered for a moment, torn between wanting to ask if she needed help and not wanting to overstep. From her Instagram he hadn’t even realized she was in a wheelchair.

Barbara wheeled herself over to him, stopping by his side. She held out a hand. “Barbara Gordon,” she said politely. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“Hal Jordan,” Hal said, impressed with the strength in her handshake. Despite the t-shirt she was wearing, he could tell she kept herself in good shape. “Does it always smell like wet dog here?”

She pushed a strand of fire red hair out of her eyes, grimacing. “Yeah. I would say you get used to it, but…”

Hal wrinkled his nose. “Think I’ll take Coast City over this any day,” he muttered. “Apparently we don’t get bodies washing up either.”

Barbara snorted, glancing up at him. “What?”

“Uh- something Stephanie said.”

“Oh-” Barbara laughed. “Yeah, she gets excited about strange things. Nice girl… just a bit odd. She has a very skewed sense of normal.”

Hal raised an eyebrow at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we all do, blah blah- Shall we go?” she asked, gesturing at the sidewalk. “I found a new place just down the street that looks good. They do Belgian waffles.”

“Lead the way,” Hal said. “I’m not one to turn down Belgian waffles.”

Barbara laughed. “Well the menu looked nice online and I’ve been craving something sweet lately. And the reviews seem good. I’ve been meaning to try it out for a while now.”

They talked about nothing in particular, the sort of small talk that Hal actually didn’t mind. It was made even easier by the fact that Barbara was obviously whip smart and had a sharp, witty sense of humor.

“It should be just around here,” Barbara said, glancing down at her phone.

Hal noted it looked brand new and he was fairly certain he hadn’t actually seen that model in stores yet. The perks of being friends with a billionaire. Though Bruce didn’t buy _Hal_ any fancy phones.

“Ah, there it is-”

Hal saw the café at the same time she did. It had a cheery red and white awning and the front of the café had been painted to look like an old brick façade, like something you might see in Belgium. There were even some cheery leafy green flowering plants cascading over the window sill.

The effect was somewhat ruined by the heavy bars over the door and window.

“Batman needs to up his game if people are robbing a waffle store,” Hal joked, pulling the door open, holding it for Barbara. When she didn’t enter or answer him, Hal glanced at her questioningly.

She was staring at the door with a frustrated look on her face, shoulders up and hands on the wheels of her chair.

Hal looked down and realized that the entrance to the café was a step up from the street, something he hadn’t even noticed when he had opened the door. “Oh uh-”

“Slight problem,” Barbara said and then she sighed. “I knew I should’ve found pictures of the entrance online,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Hal glanced at the step and then at her wheelchair, awkwardly stepping back down and letting the door swing shut. “Don’t they have rules about making things accessible?” he asked a little helplessly, unsure of what to do.

“Only new buildings, not old ones,” Barbara said, just a bite of irritation to her words. “C’mon, we’ll go to my usual place. It’s not far from here, though we’ll have to go back the way we came.”

Hal almost offered to lift her chair before remembering how much that had pissed off Harris when he came in in his, so he kept his mouth shut. “I didn’t even think-”

Barbara smiled at him tightly. “Why would you?” she asked, though the question wasn’t accusatory. “It’s not your fault.”

“Sorry-”

“Don’t,” she said sharply. She sighed again and sagged a little as they went back the way they had come. “Please don’t apologise.”

Hal eyed her warily, not sure if he had seriously offended her or what. It wasn’t what he had intended at all. “I-”

“Just…” she shook her head. “People apologise all the time as if it will bring my legs back, as if it will help me in some way. But they don’t ever mean it, they’re just saying it because it’s what’s expected of them.”

Hal regarded her with new eyes. The way she was talking, it made it sound like that the loss of the use of her legs was a recent thing.

He knew what she was feeling, to some extent. Of course, he was still able bodied and healthy, but he knew what it was like to have people only see him as being a tortured vet and spout apologies and meaningless thank yous, as if any of it helped. “Sort of makes all your hard work go backwards when they start up, huh?”

She nodded, jaw tight. “I hate it. They’re not sorry. They don’t care and I don’t want them to. I just want them to shut up and leave me alone.”

“But if you tell them to shut up-”

“-they get offended?” Barbara’s smile was a little more genuine this time. “How dare I not accept their empty sympathy!” she exclaimed sarcastically.

Hal was liking her more and more. She reminded him a little bit of Carol, all fire and straight talk and he imagined that Barbara had as little time for bullshit as Carol did. If they ever met, Hal reckoned they would get on rather well, though it probably wouldn’t bode well for Hal’s naps.

Barbara lapsed into silence, trying to put on an unaffected face, but Hal could see she was frustrated.

He didn’t say anything, knowing that anything he did say would only annoy her more. Growing up with Carol had showed him that sometimes not talking was more helpful than talking.

They walked in silence, passing by Barbara’s building once more. She led him around the corner of the block and then about halfway down the street, she turned down a tiny, dinky little alleyway.

This time, the entrance opened right out onto street level and the door had been propped open by one of a plastic statue of an owl. For some reason it was wearing a plastic cowboy hat.

It was vaguely cute, in a hideous sort of way.

The man behind the counter yelled out a greeting to Barbara, busy packing up a plastic bag of bowls.

The inside of the little café was tiny, walls covered in yellowing newspapers and magazine covers and the tables were faded red, with shiny, plasticky tops. The chairs were mismatched, with seventies style padded vinyl cushions and metal backs and the tile on the floor was just a little bit sticky.

It reminded Hal of every hole in the wall place he’d ever been, on Earth and otherwise.

Barbara called back, waving cheerily. “They have the best Ramen here,” she said to Hal when the man ducked through a doorway, bag in hand. Her smile was still a bit tight, but she seemed to have regained some of her earlier good mood.

“Well it’s not Belgian waffles, but I think I’ll manage.”

Barbara snorted, wheeling herself over to a table tucked in the corner, that only had one chair. “Oh good,” she said drolly, “he approves.”

There were no menus on the table and Hal looked around for one. He doubted this was a place with one of those fancy, unseen menus where you didn’t know what you were getting until you got it.

“Don’t bother,” Barbara said, fussing around with her phone. “Roger knows what you want.”

“Who’s Roger?”

“The owner,” Barbara said, frowning at her phone before rolling her eyes. She put it back in her bag. “He’s nice. Has a Michelin star.”

Hal’s jacket sleeve made an awful noise as he peeled it off the tabletop.

Barbara bit her lip, grimacing. “Well they’re not for cleanliness?”

Hal decided not to risk his father’s jacket, taking it off altogether and folding it in his lap. He wiped the sleeves carefully with one of the napkins but thankfully, the leather seemed to have resisted anything the table had on it.

Even so, he made a note to get it cleaned. It was overdue anyway.

“Well, I’ve eaten at worse places.”

“They say the worse the décor, the better the food,” Barbara commented idly.

Hal thought about the fading wallpaper and rickety tables in Mila’s place. “Yeah, I can see that. If you’re ever in Coast City, you have to go to a place call Mila’s. Best Cuban food in the country, swear on my life.”

“That’s a bold claim,” Barbara said. “There’s some pretty good Cuban food here.”

“No, no, Mila’s, it’s the best,” Hal said. “Trust me.”

Barbara huffed, reminding him of Carol even more strongly, but she took down the name anyway and promised she would try and visit.

Silence fell between them, much like it had with Alfred.

Hal wasn’t so stupid as to not know that Alfred’s stories about baby Bruce were meant to endear Hal to him. The old man wasn’t doing it maliciously, Hal knew that, but still.

“So why meet me for lunch? To ‘apologise for Dick’?” Hal asked tiredly, rubbing his forehead. Barbara seemed nice enough on the surface. But now that he knew what the bet was about, and how protective Bruce’s horde was of him, he half expected more shenanigans to force him and Bruce into some teenage romance story.

“Well _yes_,” she said. “I am sorry about what happened. It doesn’t mean much coming from me, I know. They would apologise in person but they’re taking Alfred’s warnings about leaving you alone pretty seriously.”

“Thank god for that,” Hal muttered. All in all, it wasn’t that bad. He got a new fridge out of the whole thing and he had enough toothpaste for a year.

“But I also wanted to meet you,” Barbara continued, putting her phone down on the tabletop.

Hal raised an eyebrow, setting his own phone down at the sudden seriousness in her voice.

“Bruce is like a second father to me,” she said easily, shrugging. “He’s been a big part of my life for a long time and he’s… done a lot. I want him to be happy and even if it’s insulting to you, I want to know that you’re not going to hurt him.”

Hal shifted uncomfortably. “Hurt him? I feel like you’re getting ahead yourself here- We’re not dating or anything close to that.”

“I know and I’m not going to try and sell Bruce to you,” Barbara said carefully. “Bruce is…”

Hal waited.

Barbara sighed heavily. “I’m just going to come out and say it- Bruce is intense, he puts all of himself into everything he does, including relationships. He may act all tough and gruff, but it’s to hide the fact that he cares very deeply and… to protect himself.”

Hal knew that. Anyone who had been in the same room with Spooky knew that the cold front he put up was a defense mechanism. In some way, all of the Justice League had one. You had to, to do the things they did.

“I don’t want to see him get hurt again,” Barbara finished quietly. “And I know you two are still… figuring things out, but I need to know you’re not going to use this against him.”

“Do you think I would?” he asked. He shouldn’t be offended that she was worried he might use Bruce’s feelings against him, but he was. Hal was a dickhead, he could admit that, but he wasn’t that bad.

“I don’t know,” Barbara said honestly. “I don’t know you. That’s why I came today. Because Bruce has been hurt before, and I don’t want to see it happen again.”

Hal stared at her for a few moments, processing her words. “Well I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same for my friends,” he said, still a bit miffed. It seemed all of the Batbrats had some insulting picture of him in their head. “You could have just said that over Instagram.”

“Face to face works better,” she countered. “And like I said, I wanted to meet you. It’s not everyday someone makes Bruce smile- it’s a pretty big deal.”

“Yeah,” Hal muttered, “I’m getting that. How did you guys even see that? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t record his own face.”

She smiled. “He doesn’t,” she said. “But we heard your exchange. Five minutes in and he’s already joking with you? That’s practically a declaration of love for Bruce.”

Hal raised an eyebrow, thinking back to their first meeting. Bruce had stolen his ring and then shoved Hal into a wall. Not exactly the stuff of fairytales.

“And someone got a picture of you two arguing during clean up,” Barbara said with a shrug. “He was smiling in the picture.”

“That wasn’t a happy smile,” Hal said, remembering what she was referring to. “He was being an asshole. I did all the hard work and he waltzes in late with Clark and takes all the credit.”

Barbara giggled. “Anyway,” she said, “that was the picture that Damian found. Someone had shared it on twitter and compared to the pictures of you guys fighting, it didn’t get much traction. But as I said… Bruce doesn’t smile often so it send Damian on a little investigation of his own.”

“So this whole thing started because of Twitter?” Hal asked.

Barbara shrugged. “That’s social media for you,” she said.

“Ramen!” Roger called excitedly, bustling out of the back with a tray with two steaming bowls on it. “I’m trying out a new broth, Ms. Barbara. You two will have to tell me how you like it,” he said, hurrying over.

Hal looked up and then at the bowl the spindly man set in front of him. It smelled divine, the soup a bright red colour and thick, succulent slabs of pork lying atop the noodles. There was one of those fancy boiled eggs, though the outside was a marbled grey rather than white.

Barbara’s soup wasn’t red, and her noodles were black instead of yellow. “That’s a lot of spice,” she said, staring at Hal’s bowl with a skeptical smile.

Roger squinted at Hal. “He can handle it,” he decided. “Let me know about the broth! And if you want gyoza!”

Hal snapped open his chopsticks, stomach rumbling. “I could go for gyoza.”

“You say that now,” Barbara said. “Roger’s portions are huge. And I’ve only seen him give Damian that much spice,” she said.

Hal grinned. “I live on the West Coast. You either eat spice or you die.”

* * *

Hal really liked Barbara. She was easy to talk to and she was just as smart as he had thought. And after her initial explanation about why she wanted to meet, she didn’t mention Bruce or any of the batkids again.

Instead she asked about him and Coast City, and what beaches he recommended visiting. She also seemed genuinely interested in listening to him talk about his work at Ferris and she razzed him like a pro when he mentioned his favourite basketball team was the Lakers.

The conversation with her was easy and Hal didn’t feel like she was trying to get anything from it, which was nice.

Not to mention the ramen was delicious, nice enough that Hal knew he would have to make a cross country trip whenever he craved it.

As they were walking back, Barbara bemoaned Gotham’s ‘abysmal’ coffee culture, complaining about the time she had gone to Turkey and tried, in her words ‘real coffee’.

“It’s an untapped market,” she insisted as they walked along the street. “I’ve been trying to convince Bruce to open a coffee shop and pinch a barista from Turkey or something, but he hasn’t bitten yet.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. I only just convinced him to get a new machine for HQ,” Hal said.

“He’s been spoiled by Alfred,” Barbara said. “Alfred makes his coffee fresh every morning and I happen to know, despite what Bruce will tell you, that he also hand delivers Bruce a fresh thermos at lunch time.”

“I need a butler,” Hal muttered. “Hand delivers… The last time I got anything delivered, someone stole the package out of my mailbox.”

“Was it expensive?”

Hal shrugged. “It was just a set of towels. According to my best friend I’m supposed to use ones without holes in them.”

Barbara raised an eyebrow with a condescending smile. “I take it you’re still using the towels with holes?”

“Well the other set got nicked,” Hal said defensively. “It’s not like they don’t work.”

That made her laugh and she shook her head. “The dichotomy of a man,” she murmured. “Dresses well but uses holey towels.”

“They still work!” Hal insisted.

Barbara just laughed harder.

Tim didn’t look nervous, Hal would give him that. He was dressed in one of those fancy prep school uniforms, not a hair out of place.

Like this, he looked even more like Bruce.

“He’s been volunteered to help me,” Barbara said. “He’s also grounded and when Bruce is at work, someone needs to supervise him. And given that Damian’s still upset, we thought it better if Tim wasn’t around so much, so I got the honour.”

“Do you get paid hazard rates?” Hal joked.

“It’s not so bad,” she said with a wicked grin. “Mostly I just make him get me coffee and then he has to watch me drink it.”

“Why do I feel like there’s significance to that?”

“He’s a coffee addict. At least four cups a day… that we know of,” Barbara said, shaking her head. “But after his stunt, Alfred cut him off and I like to rub it in a little bit.”

“That’s mean.”

She shrugged. “I’m mean,” she said simply.

Tim was watching them, fingers still moving across the screen of his phone. He didn’t look uncomfortable, just a little resigned.

“I know he feels bad,” Barbara said. “And he would apologise if he got the chance.”

If Hal was being perfectly honest, he was mostly over the whole debacle already. Sure it hadn’t been great at the time, but he had bounced back from worse. And he had a new fridge out of it. “Sure, why not. He’s like two feet tall, I could take him.”

Barbara scoffed, looking a little confused. “I… Okay,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll get him and then give you guys a minute.”

Hal watched as she approached Tim, who got up as she came over.

They talked for a moment and then Barbara held her hand out. Tim sighed and handed over his phone begrudgingly. They spoke for a little longer before Barbara looked over at Hal, Tim following her gaze.

Hal waved.

Tim looked a little uncomfortable and Hal saw the deep breath he took before the teenager trudged over, holding onto the strap of his bookbag.

“Hello, Captain Jordan,” Tim said.

“Just Hal is fine,” Hal said. “I’m not a Captain anymore.”

Tim nodded, avoiding his eyes.

Hal felt a little sorry for the kid. He did look pretty pathetic and there were dark circles under his eyes. Still, he didn’t feel too bad about Tim’s predicament, after all, the kid had gotten himself there pretty handily.

“I’m really sorry about what I did, Hal,” Tim said finally, voice very small. “I knew it was wrong to invade your privacy and gaslight you like I did, but I did it anyway. I knew what the effects could be, and I did it anyway, just to win.”

Hal considered the young man in front of him. Tim looked genuinely sorry and his words seemed sincere, not at all like the wheedling non-apologies Hal had seen trotted out for other rich kids caught doing the wrong thing. “Consider it in the past,” he decided.

Tim looked confused. “But-”

“You’re seventeen or whatever, I’m not going to hold a grudge against a teenager,” Hal said. “That would make me the lamest person ever.”

Tim looked a little suspicious, eyes narrowing.

“Seriously, it’s fine,” Hal said, messing up the kid’s hair and grinning at the indignant squawk it got him. “I get it- older brothers are assholes and you get caught up in it. I should I know, I’ve got two of them.”

Tim patted his hair down furiously. “I thought you’d be angrier- I would be.”

Hal blew out a breath. “Well, you got chewed out by what, Clark, Diana and Alfred? Nothing I say is going to top that.”

Tim’s shoulder’s hunched. “Have you ever had Wonder Woman look disappointed in you?” he asked. “I felt like the worst person in the world.”

“Well, as long as you don’t do it again,” Hal said awkwardly. He was sounding more and more like his father when he said crap like that, and it was just driving home how old he was now.

Tim sighed. “I really am sorry. I hope it won’t make you think badly of Bruce.”

“I already think badly of Bruce,” Hal said. “Anything you do pales in comparison to the crap he pulls on a weekly basis.”

Tim fiddled with the strap of his bag. “So now that you’re not mad at me… Could you please talk to Bruce and ask him to let me have at least one cup-”

“Nope,” Hal said, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder and steering him towards the entryway where Barbara was waiting. “You’re on your own with that one.”

“They don’t even let me have decaf!” Tim complained, sounding his age for once. “And the last time I had noodles was two weeks ago!”

“You’ll live,” Hal said, with very little sympathy for the little twerp. He had kicked his coffee addiction after Carol had threatened to stage an intervention and he had never really gone through the two minute noodle phase.

Barbara snorted, obviously having caught the tail end of their conversation. “He tried that on everyone,” she said to Hal.

“It was worth a shot,” Tim said.

“Go upstairs,” Barbara said fondly, poking him in the side until the teenager squirmed away. Once he had disappeared into the building, Barbara looked up at Hal. “Thanks for letting him do that.”

Hal shrugged. “Seriously, I’d lose all my cred if I held a grudge against a teenager. Especially one that looks like he’d blow away in a strong wind.”

She sighed. “We’re working on that too,” she muttered.

Hal glanced at his phone. He needed to get back to Coast City in time to get Kyle from the train station. “Well, Barbara, it was nice to meet you,” he said, holding his hand out for her to shake. “I must say, so far, you’re my favourite.”

“I’m everyone’s favourite,” she said with a cheeky smile. “It was nice to meet you too. If you’re ever in the neighbourhood, let me know. The others don’t really give a damn about good food and it was nice to have someone who appreciates food for what it is, instead of just cramming it in their mouths.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hal said. “Say hi to Alfred for me.”

Barbara promised she would and then disappeared inside the building, catching up to Tim who was waiting by the elevator bank for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bathe me in your flames, readers. I'm ready.
> 
> Also there was a hint as to how Jason goes out the window... very small hint but it is there.


	11. Jason Todd (and Kyle)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is someone bleeding?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revamped the chapter a little bit cause I wasn't happy with Hal's characterisation.
> 
> Hope you don't mind.

Hal woke to the sound of a yell and glass shattering.

Thanks to his time in the military he was wide awake and alert in seconds.

He didn’t even think, slipping off the bed and darting over to his bedroom door. The Ring scanned the apartment and found no unknown signatures, only Kyle, standing outside on the balcony.

Hal pushed open the bedroom door, well aware the Ring could be fooled. Both Sinestro and his yellow corps and Parallax had fooled the Ring before and Hal wasn’t about to leave Kyle, little puppy dog Kyle, to deal with that alone.

But instead of finding poor puppy dog Kyle being accosted by Sinestro, what Hal found was glass all over the dining room floor and his balcony door reduced to an empty frame.

Kyle was standing on the balcony, hands over his mouth as he stared over the railing.

Hal stared at the glass and then floated over it. “Kyle…?” he called hesitantly, eyeing at the glass crumbling around the edges of the door frame. “What’s going on?”

The Ring picked up nothing out of the ordinary as far as energy signatures went.

But that didn’t stop it from prodding suspiciously at Kyle’s Ring in question.

It prodded back defensively.

Hal ignored them both.

Kyle whipped around, a guilty look of horror on his face. “Hal!” he almost shouted. “Uh-What are you doing up?”

Hal squinted at the stupid question and then turned to look at the shattered glass all over the balcony tiles. “What do you- What are _you_ doing up?” he asked incredulously, wondering if Kyle was sleepwalking or something. “What the hell happened?”

“Uh… Well,” Kyle licked his lips. “There was a raccoon.”

Hal blinked. “… A raccoon,” he repeated.

“It was a really big,” Kyle said, wringing his hands, “uh… rabid looking raccoon.”

Hal stared at the glass on the ground, then at the door frame and then back at Kyle.

Kyle stared back at him. He had his hands clasped in front of himself like a little kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Hal nodded and clicked his tongue. “And that,” he said, “is how I know you were an only child. You can’t lie for shit.”

For some reason, Kyle looked offended by that, mouth dropping open. “Wha- There could’ve been a raccoon!”

“RAYNER!”

Hal started, looking around the enraged bellow that echoed up the building. “What the hell was that-”

Kyle flinched, shoulders rising. The guilty look returned in force. “You should get the door,” he whispered to Hal. “Before he kicks it down.”

Hal turned to look at Kyle. “… Before who kicks it down?”

There was a loud bang from the front of the apartment and Hal blanched, realising Kyle had actually been serious.

Scrambling, Hal ran back through the apartment, nearly ramming his hip into the corner of the counter in his haste to get to the door before that one was destroyed as well. Hal’s apartment only had like six doors and he needed all of them.

Especially if he wanted his deposit back.

Which he did.

There was another loud bang and his front door jumped in the frame.

Hal yanked it open before there was a third one and nearly got a boot in the face. He staggered back, catching himself on the hall table.

Looking up, there was a young man standing outside his door. He was dressed like something out of one of Hal’s video games, in black cargo pants, heavy boots, and a beat up leather jacket. There was a fancy looking red helmet under one arm and a red bat splashed messily across the front of his body armour.

He had dark hair and blue eyes, as if the red bat wasn’t enough of a clue as to who he was.

For a moment they just stared at each other.

And then the baby Bruce number whatever smiled grimly at Hal. “There’s someone in your apartment I need to kill,” he said politely. “Do you mind?”

“I do actually-” Hal started before the newest of Bruce’s clones just barged right through the door, sending him stumbling into the wall.

It was Bruce all over. Just barrelling through people, because with that much muscle, everybody just bounced off anyway.

“Oh, you didn’t die,” Kyle said from behind him, voice dry as a bone.

“Yeah, no thanks to you, Rayner!” clone number whatever hissed angrily. “A window, really?!”

Hal scowled and kicked the door shut, pride just a little bit wounded.

“It was a door, actually. And next time someone breaks into my friend’s house and looms over me like a serial killer, I’ll just make them some tea because defending myself would be too rude!” Kyle hissed, cheeks going pink and a distinctly guilty hunch to his shoulders.

“I was trying to wake you up!”

Hal shoved clone boy out of the way, or, he tried to. “You know him?” he asked Kyle sharply, jabbing a thumb at the growly meathead standing in his hallway.

Kyle huffed in irritation and folded his arms. “Hal, this is Jason Todd,” he said, voice dripping with annoyance. “We’ve… worked together a few times.”

“Oh, we’ve just _worked_ together?” Jason, apparently, snapped. He rubbed his back a few times, scowling darkly. “That’s a funny way of putting it, Rayner.”

For some reason, the name piqued a memory in Hal’s head, and he stared at Jason a few times, trying to figure out where he had heard that name before. He knew it was important, but in his defense, he had just been woken up to Kyle trashing his apartment because of a ‘raccoon’.

Meanwhile, Jason was busy ranting at Kyle. “They make highrise glass with that really thick, fancy stuff right? You know, to stop it breaking under their weight!” he said loudly, pointing at his back dramatically.

“Well maybe,” Kyle hissed back, shockingly sassy, “it was also to stop people breaking in!”

“People weren’t meant to go through two inch thick glass, Rayner! My back fuckin’ hurts!”

And just like that, Hal knew exactly who Jason Todd was. The Gotham accent, the bat- this had to be the Robin that died.

Though knowing that didn’t explain why he was here or how he and Kyle knew each other-

“You scared me! What did you want me to do?!” Kyle said defensively, cheeks going even pinker.

“Uh, not throw me through a fuckin’ window?!”

Kyle huffed and stomped over to the fridge, yanking it open with unnecessary violence. “Here,” he said waspishly, tossing something at Jason. “You big baby.”

“Aw, I knew you loved me, sweetheart,” Jason said back in a syrupy sweet voice, catching the thing, which turned out to be one of Hal’s ice packs. “Will you give me a massage later?”

Kyle slammed the fridge door hard enough for it to make it rock.

“Hey, hey, let’s not take it out on the fridge,” Hal said protectively, batting Kyle away from his fridge. It was the nicest thing he owned, and he would like to keep it that way. “And, while we’re not destroying Hal’s things even more, could someone explain what the hell’s going on?”

“Sure,” Kyle said, folding his arms and turning to Jason with a nasty smile. “What _is_ going on, Jason, hm?”

Jason gave Kyle a smile. “Well I came to apologise,” he said.

Kyle blinked a few times, expression clearing. “Oh you-”

Hal raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them.

Jason turned to Hal pointedly, a smug smile on his face. “I owe you an apology,” he said to Hal, voice dripping with pointed sarcasm.

Hal blinked as he processed the words.

“Are you serious?!” Kyle exploded barely a moment later. “You owe _him_ an apology?!”

“That’s what I said, Rayner. Why? You jealous-”

Hal looked between the two of them, wondering at the look of outrage on Kyle’s face and Jason’s smug demeanour. For some reason, he was getting the impression that he was being used as a sort of… go between for something.

“Jealous?! I never- Who the hell breaks into someone’s house to apologise?!” Kyle hissed furiously. “That is not how normal people operate, Jason- What’s more, where the hell is _my_ apology, you asshole?!”

“Why would I be apologising to you? _You_ threw me out a window.”

“I didn’t know it was you!” Kyle exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “I wake up to you standing over me, eyes glowing in that stupid helmet and you expect me not to freak out-”

Their voices were starting to get louder, and as mildly interesting as it was to see unflappable, goofy Kyle lose it, Hal really couldn’t afford to get another noise complaint.

And they were definitely heading for noise complaint territory.

“Alright, alright, alright!” Hal said, waving his hands and getting in between them before they could break anything else. “If you’re gonna argue, do it quietly. The old man upstairs is an asshole, and if we keeping makin’ noise, he’s going to report me to body corporate again.”

Kyle looked betrayed.

Jason snorted and looked away, almost pouting.

Hal looked between the two of them again, waiting for either of them to say something or explain.

But no one said anything for a few long minutes and the awkward tension between Jason and Kyle grew, not that Hal cared. He had been in the Air Force. Things could only be awkward for so long, and then it was just normal to see people naked or doing things they shouldn’t be.

At the five minute mark, Kyle made a funny noise and stomped away, throwing himself back onto Hal’s couch. He pointedly rolled away from the two of them, yanking his blanket over his shoulders.

Jason pulled a face at Kyle’s back.

Hal eyed the two of them. He didn’t know what had gotten into Kyle, who was ordinarily mature, level headed and just an all around happy-go-lucky sort of guy. The bratty act was vastly out of character for him.

Honestly though, Hal was too tired for this shit. He had boxing training in the morning and he honestly didn’t feel like getting cold cocked in the face because he was sleep deprived.

He would deal with Kyle’s temper tantrum and the broken door in the morning. Maybe he could con Ollie or Bruce into pay for the repair job.

“O-kay, well uh… good job on that apology,” Hal said to Jason, “but uh, I’m going to go back to bed. You two clean up the door and don’t… don’t break anything else or if you do, do it quietly.”

Kyle threw off his blanket with a put upon sigh and slunk back into the kitchen to root around under the sink.

Jason didn’t move, glaring at the wall.

“Alright good chat,” Hal said, really not sure why he was always feeling as if he was interrupting things when it came to dealing with Bruce’s horde of minions. His name was on the lease, he paid the rent- why was it him who was always felt like the intruder- he lived here!

He was just about to close the door to his bedroom when-

“I feel guilty alright?!” Jason exploded suddenly.

Hal poked his head out of the door. “Sorry?” he asked, wondering if Jason was talking to him or Kyle. He made his way back into the living area, hoping they weren’t about to get into it again.

Jason folded his arms, glaring. “The little brat’s moping around the manor like that monster of a dog of his got kicked,” he said darkly.

Hal looked at Kyle in question, hoping for some insight as to what Jason was talking about.

Kyle was ignoring them both, somehow managing to make the act of sweeping pissed off.

“He hasn’t called Timbalina a family disgrace in weeks! And he doesn’t even care when I call him ‘demon baby’, he just sits there and looks pathetic! It’s annoying!”

Hal was lost. “Who are we talking about?”

“Damian,” Kyle said gruffly.

Jason lifted a hand in agreement at Kyle, making a tsking noise. “I’m so sick of dealing with Dick mooning around my apartment like a hero in a Greek tragedy because the little brat won’t talk to him!”

Hal didn’t know if it was Bruce’s kids in particular, or all people under the age of thirty, but he genuinely had no idea why none of them actually explained anything when they spoke. “… Okay? Kyle can you-”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “I’m not getting involved. Jason’s enough drama for me.”

Jason flipped him off. “Damian’s having a sulk and he’s not talking to Dick,” he said. “And the dickhead’s all mopey about it and taking it out _me_.”

Hal waited for additional explanation, but after a few moments, it was apparent that there wasn’t anything else. “So… what does this have to do with me? It’s not my problem-”

“It _is_ your problem,” Jason interrupted hotly. “It’s your problem, because _you_ aren’t playing house with the old man.”

Kyle made a disbelieving noise and stood up. “I told you not to do this, Jason,” he said, glowering at Jason as he stomped back through the kitchen to empty out the dustpan. “He’s twelve!”

Hal blinked a few times, pretty sure he had misheard. At the very least he was obviously having some comprehension problems because he thought Jason had just said ‘playing house’.

“Yeah, okay, I don’t need the added guilt trip from you, Kyle,” Jason said gruffly. “I know I fucked up, okay? That’s why I’m here. I already got raked over the coals by underpants and Diana, I don’t need you doing it as well.”

“Sorry,” Hal interrupted, waving his hands at them, “playing house? I- Did I hear that right?”

Kyle harrumphed and went back to sweeping.

“The little brat’s like, imprinted on you or something,” Jason said flippantly, ears going bright red. “Like a duck or whatever. And now, in his mind, because you and Bruce aren’t having a summer wedding, he thinks you hate us all, but more specifically, _him_.”

Hal looked at Kyle, but Kyle was pretending to ignore them again.

“Hate him?” Hal repeated, bewildered. “I mean, that doesn’t really explain-”

“You are so bad at explaining things, you know that?” Kyle said to Jason. He turned to Hal, glowering. “Damian thinks, _rightly so_, that the bet drove you away from Bruce. He thinks that it’s his fault you turned Bruce down” he said, glaring at Jason pointedly.

Jason’s ears could been seen from space, they were so red. “That’s what I said,” he mumbled.

“… Ah.” Hal said. “And by imprinting, you mean-”

Jason’s jaw worked. “He thinks you’re cool,” he said begrudgingly. “And now he’s disappointed you turned the old man down and moping around like a pathetic preteen.”

“He _is_ a preteen,” Kyle said.

“Shut up, Kyle.”

“You shut up-”

Hal tuned out their arguing, thinking about prickly little Damian, posturing and strutting around with his little twelve year old chest puffed out. Hal had seen it for what it was, a little kid doing his best to appear tough.

Child soldiers.

He and Bruce really needed to talk about that. If Bruce was serious about pursuing this, then Hal wasn’t going to let children run around fighting criminals. It wasn’t right.

Hell, he and John barely let Kyle out with them, and Kyle was an adult.

Hal sighed, rubbing his head. It spoke volumes about how upset Damian must be that one of his older brothers was willing to risk Bruce’s wrath to come to Coast City.

And if Hal was being honest, it did make him feel bad. Damian was a sweet kid. A little bit aggressive with anything pointy, but a sweet kid, if the menagerie of animals was anything to go by. And the last thing he wanted was for the kid to think Hal hated him.

It was mostly just annoying because again, none of this was Hal’s fault. Why had no one explained to the kid that this was just how adult relationships worked?

Hal pulled a face, thinking back to himself at twelve-

“That’s why I’m here,” Jason said awkwardly, interrupting Hal’s thoughts. “Just…”

“What, go on a date with Bruce?” Hal asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Jason said with a put upon sigh. “I don’t mean, go on a date with Bruce.”

Hal raised an eyebrow, glancing at Kyle.

Kyle rolled his eyes and resumed his sweeping.

“I just mean,” Jason sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “hang out with the little brat or something. Like, go… help him walk his monster of a dog or whatever he does with it. Or take him flying, I don’t know!”

“I don’t think Bruce’ll be a fan of me taking his kid flying,” Hal said wryly.

“Who cares about Bruce?” Jason said, squinting. “The old man can go jump in the lake for all I care. I just want the brat to stop moping around. If this goes on much longer, Timbalina’s going to start offering the little monster more kittens, and that is the _last_ thing we need.”

“Or,” Kyle interrupted, tipping the last of the glass into the trash, “you could just apologise to him, Jason? I _told_ you not to tease him.”

“I tried!” Jason insisted, raking a hand through his hair. It stuck up in all directions, making him look like an annoyed porcupine. “He just stares at me!”

Hal wondered if the white streak was a fashion statement.

“I mean actually apologise to him, not just say ‘sorry brat’!” Kyle was saying. “He’s twelve, Jason. And he’s not exactly… got the best handle on emotions. He’s probably confused as all hell.”

“I didn’t think he would take it this hard!” Jason said, and there was just a hint of desperation in his voice. “After Selina, he didn’t like any of Bruce’s partners so I thought that it would be the same way this time-”

Kyle sighed heavily. “Jason…”

“Look,” Jason said seriously, turning to Hal. “I’m not asking you to make out with Bruce or even talk to him, I just… He’s my- he’s a little kid and… I fucked up and this is the only thing I can think of to fix it.”

Hal considered Jason’s proposal. It seemed innocuous- an older brother asking for a favour to make his little brother happy. And it wasn’t like Hal didn’t like kids. He found them quite entertaining most of the time and Damian wasn’t so bad.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Hal hadn’t been thinking about Bruce’s offer of a date. Bruce was an attractive guy and Hal enjoyed spending time with him, if only because it was funny to annoy him.

Kyle and Jason seemed to be arguing with their eyes, staring at each other and making faces.

“Fine,” Hal said, interrupting their weird conversation. He shrugged. “Why not?”

Jason and Kyle looked at him.

Jason looked surprised while Kyle just looked resigned.

“I’ll go hang out with Damian, might even go on a date with Spooks,” Hal said, smiling.

Jason didn’t quite smile, but there was something hopeful on his face.

“But I want half the pot,” Hal finished.

Because as honest as Jason’s little plea had been, Hal knew, he just knew that the little horde of batbrats wouldn’t have given up on their little bet so easily. He wouldn’t have, not on his life and he was willing to bet the little bastards wouldn’t have either.

“There it is…” Kyle muttered, shaking his head.

“Half the… pot?” Jason repeated, doing a bang up job of looking confused. “You mean from the bet? Not sure if you know this, but there is no bet anymore. Not unless we all want to get lectured to death by Alfie again.”

Kyle scoffed, abandoning the dustpan and brush by the counter, and throwing himself back onto the sofa. It screeched across the floor.

Hal nodded slowly. “Uh huh.”

Jason blinked a few times, a fantastic looking expression of bewilderment and innocence on his face. “You’ve met Alfred,” he said to Hal, “do you really think I want to disappoint him? He’s the closest thing I’ve got to a grandfather- I’m not going to mess that up.”

Hal didn’t believe it for a second. He had two older brothers and a mischievous streak a mile wide, he had that expression mastered from the age of two and it had served him well over the years.

Kyle tipped his head over the back of the sofa, staring at them curiously.

Jason’s eyes darted to Kyle nervously.

Hal had to admit, he was doing a great job at putting on the façade of a confused, well meaning, and innocent older brother. If Hal hadn’t just watched Jason get under Kyle’s skin just by breathing, he might have believed it.

After a few minutes, Jason broke, blowing out an annoyed smile. “Thirty percent,” he bartered. “And you don’t tell Bruce.”

“Half,” Hal repeated. “And why would I tell Bruce?”

“Forty,” Jason tried.

“_Half_.”

Jason pouted and it made him look less like the jaded vigilante he was pretending to be and more like the young man he was.

“Told you he was just as much of an asshole as you,” Kyle said, singsong.

Hal smiled at Jason, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

Jason blew out a breath. “Fine,” he said. “Half and you keep it to yourself.”

“Of course,” Hal said, satisfied. He had seen the way the Wayne kids lived their lives on social media and in the news and he was pretty damn sure there was more than a few dollars on the line here.

“You drive a hard bargain, Jordan,” Jason said with a begrudging smile.

“Think of it as reparations… for my… emotional distress or whatever,” Hal said, clapping the young man on the shoulder. “Drink on it?”

Jason grinned. “Oh yeah, I think I’m going to like you.”

Kyle groaned. “Great, now there are two of you,” he muttered.

* * *

“So you’re…”

“The one that died?” Jason finished, nearly clocking Kyle in the head with his beer bottle. “Oh yeah. Got the shit beaten out of me and then the Joker blew me up. It was a great time.”

Hal hadn’t heard all the nitty gritty about the second Robin’s death. It had happened well before he had met Bruce. Details had always been scarce, even years after the incident and Hal had no interest in digging up details about a murdered child.

“Word on the street is, you died too,” Jason said curiously.

Hal rubbed his chin. “Yeah. Lost my marbles for a while there and then when I came out of it, I only really saw one way to make amends for the things I had done. Threw myself into the sun.”

“Dramatic,” Jason said approvingly. He nodded a few times. “I like it. Going out with a bang.”

Hal snorted. “I think that was more you than me.”

Jason grinned savagely. “Oh yeah, we’re going to get along great.”

“Bully for us,” Kyle said darkly, pushing Jason’s hand away. “Can we skip the dead jokes? I’m not a fan.”

Jason sighed. “It’s just a joke-”

“Well I don’t find them funny,” Kyle said severely. “Can we talk about something else?”

Hal knew Kyle didn’t really find the story about his death that entertaining. He supposed it had been a pretty stressful time for Kyle, what with Guy and John missing and Hal flying around as a homicidal maniac.

And just like that, he knew why Kyle and Jason had been acting so weird. The weird looks and silent communication, not to mention the snarky barbs they kept throwing at each other.

“Are you two…” Hal started and then he caught the faintest whiff of iron in the air. “Is someone bleeding? Kyle? You didn’t cut yourself, did you?”

Kyle looked down at himself, checking the bottoms of his feet. “No?”

Hal checked his own feet, but there were no cuts to be seen. “I could’ve sworn I smelt-”

“Jason!” Kyle cried suddenly. He yanked Jason’s jacket open by the collar, exposing a darkening staining on the inside lining and the wet sheen of blood on the grey black body armour he was wearing. “Oh my god- why didn’t you say something?!”

“Knew I was forgetting something,” Jason said mildly, looking only vaguely interested in the news he was bleeding.

Hal sighed and set aside his half empty bottle of beer. “… I’ll get the first aid kit.”

* * *

While Kyle berated Jason on the couch, Hal called Bruce.

“Hal.”

“One of your kids is bleeding on my couch.”

Bruce was silent for a beat. “Which one?” he demanded sharply.

“Jason,” Hal said, eyeing the back of Jason’s head while Kyle prodded at the long scratches on his side. None of them were very deep, but they had to be painful if the bruising was anything to go by. “I don’t think he’ll die, but he won’t let us take him to the hospital to make sure.”

“Can’t go to the hospital if you’re legally dead,” Jason called. “They ask questions, like ‘aren’t you supposed to be dead?’ and ‘how did you come back to life?’”

Hal nodded. “Did you hear that?”

“I did,” Bruce rumbled. “I’m on my way. I’m near the Zeta tube so I should be there in twenty minutes.”

“Tell him to bring chili dogs from 72nd and Fredrick!” Jason yelled. “Ow- will you watch where you’re poking that?”

“Sit still.” Kyle said grumpily. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything this whole time!”

“And bring chili dogs,” Hal repeated over the argument that erupted from the couch.

Bruce sighed heavily and hung up.

“I don’t think you’re getting chili dogs, kid,” Hal said to Jason.

“He’s a big old softie,” Jason said confidently, “he’ll bring me chili dogs. And then he’ll try to lecture me while I’m eating.”

“Stop. Moving!” Kyle insisted again.

“Stop being such a priss because you feel guilty about throwing me off the building,” Jason said with a roll of his eyes. “I’ve had way worse from scarier guys, Rayner.”

Kyle went still, face going white.

Hal glanced at the two young men on the couch. He hadn’t got a chance to ask them what exactly their relationship was before Jason’s injury made itself known.

Jason was staring at Kyle. “That was a joke,” he said firmly. “Kyle, this wasn’t your fault. I got this from Croc when I was finishing up a case. I thought I patched them up properly, but they must have reopened-”

“Yeah, when I threw you out the window,” Kyle said sharply.

“Fucks sake, Rayner, you said it yourself, I scared you-”

“I hurt you, Jason!” Kyle insisted with a sniff, looking absolutely devastated as he stared at Jason’s bloodied side. “I…”

Hal was dying to know how Kyle, sweet, bumbling Kyle, had managed to stand Jason long enough to start sleeping with him or dating or whatever. But he also knew that this was a conversation he shouldn’t be privy to. “How about,” he interrupted with a clap of his hands, before one of them started crying or something equally revolting, “we take this to the bathroom?”

Kyle’s eyes were suspiciously wet as he looked away from Jason, scrubbing his face on the shoulder of Hal’s borrowed shirt.

Jason looked pissed off, which Hal was beginning to suspect was a default expression for him.

Hal managed to corral the two of them into the main bathroom. He dumped the first aid kit on the counter and made Jason sit on the edge of the bath. “There,” he said. “Now you can get blood everywhere and it’ll be easy to clean up.”

Neither of them appeared to find his joke funny.

Jason and Kyle weren’t teenagers, but Hal would be damned it this wasn’t teenage level drama.

He flicked on the fan with a meaningful look at Kyle. “I’ll wait for Bruce outside,” he said before he sidled out and pulled the door shut behind him.

Back in the kitchen, he couldn’t hear anything but the hum of the fan and the occasional snippet of loud, angry Spanish.

BREAK

Hal was half-heartedly rubbing at the bloodstain on his couch, more for something to do than out of actual concern for the couch, when his front door opened, and Bruce walked in.

“Tell me you didn’t pick the lock,” Hal said in exasperation.

Bruce held up a key, a black bag tucked under one arm.

Hal squinted at it, recognising it as a copy of his. “Wha- where did you get that?”

“Carol gave it to me,” Bruce said primly. “Something about you locking yourself out on a regular basis.”

Hal huffed, less than impressed at hearing that his best friend was conspiring with whatever Bruce was. “Traitors,” he said, “traitors everywhere.”

“Where is Jason?” Bruce asked, a hint of parental concern in his voice. “How bad was the injury?”

“Looked worse than it was,” Hal said. “Deep scratches more than anything- He said they were from Croc when he was finishing up a case.”

Bruce heaved a sighed, jaw clenching in a telltale sign of frustration.

“Guessing baby bat wasn’t supposed to be out punching crocodiles?”

“No,” Bruce ground out, “he wasn’t.”

“Are crocodiles native to Gotham?” Hal asked, trying to remember if North America even had crocodiles. He could have sworn that was Africa and Australia, but then again, maybe someone had just misidentified a fat alligator.

“He’s not actually a crocodile,” Bruce said, closing his eyes.

“Well that’s just misleading,” Hal said. “I suppose Killer Alligator doesn’t have the same ring to it, huh?”

Bruce sighed heavily, giving Hal a droll look.

“Well I was just saying. What is with all the animal names in Gotham anyway?” Hal asked. “There’s you, Robin, Red whatever, Catwoman, Killer Croc, and Pigeon- Do you all have a pact or something-”

“Penguin,” Bruce corrected. “And no. I was the first.”

Hal raised an eyebrow at the almost petulant tone of voice and the barely there pout. “Trailblazer,” he said with a grin.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “What happened?” he asked, nodding his head at the empty door frame letting in a cool breeze.

“Jason broke in and scared the shit out of Kyle trying to wake him up. Kyle threw him through my balcony door and over the railing. Jason nearly broke down my front door, Kyle got snippy and then Jason started bleeding,” Hal said. “Though I’m pretty sure there’s something else they’re fighting about too.”

Bruce was staring at the door with a long suffering expression on his face. “I’ll pay for the door,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh good, because I don’t have money for that,” Hal said flippantly, walking away to bang on the bathroom door. “Did you know that they’re dating?” he asked.

“I did not,” Bruce said. “But I suspected. Jason has been… upset the last few weeks and I figured it had to do with the suspicious lack of Kyle Rayner.”

Hal grunted. “Well they took it out on my door,” he said. “I’m so going to get another noise complaint. Do you know what they were arguing about?”

Bruce looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suspect Jason thought that Kyle would move to Gotham once he had graduated and I think Kyle thought Jason would move to LA.”

“Ah,” Hal said. “That would explain why Kyle’s housing suddenly fell through,” he said with a sigh.

There was a loud explosion of Spanish from the bathroom.

Hal grimaced. “You’re dealing with it,” he said, ducking behind Bruce and shoving him, or trying to, towards the bathroom. “They already woke me up at two am and Kyle tried to feed me some story about a rabid raccoon.”

“Some hero,” Bruce mocked.

“Oh shut up.”

Bruce snorted and knocked on the door. “Jason? I need to check your injuries. I’m coming in.”

There was a murmur from the bathroom and after a few moments, the door swung open.

Jason was still siting on the edge of the bathtub, without his body armour and jacket. His torso was still bloody, but Kyle had done an admirable job of stemming the blood with Hal’s first aid kit.

Kyle was red eyed and avoiding looking at Jason.

Bruce brushed past Kyle to crouch in front of Jason. He ignored Jason’s grumbling complaints, lifting his arm to look at the gashes on his ribs. “They’re not infected. Clean cuts, not too deep,” he said clinically. “You’re lucky.”

“Those aren’t chili dogs,” Jason said, eyes narrowing at the black bag in Bruce’s hand.

“Good to see your eyes still work,” Bruce said, handing the slim black bag to Kyle, “There’s a suture gun and glue in there. Jason knows how to use it, but it’s very simple. Press it along the edge of the wound and-”

Hal leaned on the doorframe, watching Bruce coach Kyle through using the suture gun with careful, patient instructions.

He wasn’t surprised that Bruce somehow had medical grade and state of the art medical equipment. The man did have an operating theatre in his mancave after all.

What he was surprised by, was Bruce’s almost fond exasperation as Jason complained about the bathroom being too small with Bruce in there. Hal hadn’t really got to see Bruce parenting before, outside of the quick snippet with Damian, but it was sort of eye opening.

-The rough and tumble Dark Knight of Gotham. A family man.

The tabloids would have a field day.

“I can do it, if you’re not comfortable,” Bruce offered, once he finished explaining how to use it.

Kyle shook his head. “We have something similar on Oa,” he said. “It’s the same concept.”

“Ugh,” Hal said, remembering the time Kilowog had ‘volunteered’ Hal to be the guinea pig for the new recruits. “I hate that thing.”

Kyle was staring at the suture gun with a focused look.

Bruce rose from his crouch in front of Jason. “I’m going to get you something to eat-”

Jason opened his mouth, perking up-”

“-not chili dogs,” Bruce said sternly. “And then when we get back, you and I need to have a conversation about disobeying orders and your reckless behaviour as of late.”

“We?” Hal asked in confusion. “Who’s we?”

Bruce stared at him pointedly, eyes flicking to Kyle and Jason for a moment.

“Oh-” Hal nodded, realising Bruce was trying to give the two more privacy than just a ceiling fan and Hal’s penchant for getting distracted. “We as in… Right. Got it.”

“Smooth,” Jason said under his breath. “And I don’t need a lecture from you, old man. Especially because you didn’t get me chili dogs. I’m an adult. I do what I want.”

“The apartment in downtown Gotham says otherwise,” Bruce said loftily, breezing past Hal.

Hal snorted and then laughed at the affronted look on Jason’s face. He ruffled Kyle’s hair, enjoying the enraged splutter it got him and then left to get a shirt and shoes.

Bruce was waiting by the front door when Hal returned, and he could hear murmuring from the bathroom.

“No make-up sex in my bed!” Hal yelled as Bruce ushered him out the front door.

Before the door swung shut, Hal heard Jason laugh.

Bruce was giving Hal his signature unimpressed stare.

“What?” Hal asked. “I just changed the sheets.”

Bruce rolled his eyes.

Hal snorted in amusement. “Well I did and it’s not like I have another bed to sleep in.”

Bruce had bought a fancy black Porsche Cayenne rather than the Batmobile, which Hal was only a little bit disappointed by.

“This is practical,” Hal said as he slid into the passenger seat, “for you.”

“Did you forget I have five children and two wards?”

“And Alfred.”

“And Alfred.”

They lapsed into silence and Hal fiddled with the fancy centre console, managing to get his phone connected to it. He amused himself by pushing the expensive system to its limits of capacity, pleasantly surprised when he could play youtube videos on it and also get Netflix. “This standard?”

Bruce snorted. “No,” he said. “But Porsche can be… accommodating with the right incentive.”

“Money,” Hal said. “Lots of money. Right?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” Bruce said but the smug glint in his eyes confirmed Hal’s suspicion.

The drive to the mini mart was fairly quick, given that this was Coast City and not Gotham and so there weren’t crazies bounding around at all hours of the night.

Hal yawned as Bruce parked, but neither of them made a move to get out of the car.

The car turned off with a quiet hum, doors unlocking automatically.

Bruce sighed. “I am not sure how many more times I can say this without it losing it’s meaning,” he started, back to his weird stilted, overly polite apologies, “but I am sorry that Jason intruded on your life.”

Hal heaved a put upon sigh. “You need leashes,” he said to Bruce. “Like those little backpack ones. You can have them personalised and everything. Get them matching colours, like those tracksuits-”

Bruce sighed, lips twitching as he did his best not to smile.

Weirdo.

“Anyway,” Hal said, rolling his shoulders. The seats of this car were more comfortable than his bed. “I’m not so bothered by it, especially now that they cut me in on the bet-”

Bruce’s hands clenched on the steering wheel and a look of actual anger passed over his face. He glared at the mini mart and then looked at Hal, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “What?” he demanded, eyes flaring wide.

“Turns out,” Hal said mildly, “it’s still on despite Clark’s best disappointed uncle face and your sad dad act.”

Bruce looked away, jaw working furiously.

“Cool your jets,” Hal said placatingly, hoping Bruce wouldn’t explode before Hal had a chance to explain his plan. “I’m okay with it-”

“Well I’m not,” Bruce snapped waspishly. “It doesn’t just affect you.”

Hal knew there was an insult in there somewhere. “I’m well aware of that. Jason told me that Damian’s not doing too hot- he thinks it’s his fault, right? So I thought, I get Jason to cut me in on the bet, go on a date with you and make Damian happy-”

Bruce stared at him, expression morphing into something unreadable. And then without another word, he shoved open the door and got out of the car. He slammed the door hard enough to make the car rock.

Hal fumbled with his fancy Porsche seatbelt. “Oi!” he called after Bruce as Bruce stomped towards the mini mart doors. “You didn’t let me finish!”

Bruce turned on him, eyes blazing with something that looked a lot like hurt. “I don’t want you to date me out of pity for my son,” he ground out through clenched teeth. He raked a hand through his hair in a move that reminded Hal of Jason. “I would rather you want to date me because you enjoyed my company not because-”

And then he was gone again, stomping into the mini mart, and leaving Hal standing on the sidewalk like an idiot.

“Will you chill out?” Hal demanded, chasing after Bruce.

Bruce was wrestling with the dinky plastic baskets, finally managing to get one out of the stack. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Will you let me explain?” Hal demanded, trailing after Bruce as he headed for the back of the store. “Bruce, c’mon-”

Bruce ignored him, snatching a fancy netted bag of spinach off the shelf.

“Just listen,” Hal said in exasperation, wondering how _he_ had had the patience to stand Bruce’s dramatics long enough to start liking him romantically. “What I meant was, I get cut in on the bet, we go on a date, Damian’s happy and then when your little horde thinks they’ve got away with it, you spring it on them that you know all about it.”

To call the look Bruce gave him, unimpressed, was being kind.

“It’s a win for both of us.”

Bruce looked away, jaw still clenched.

Hal didn’t want to know what Bruce’s dental records looked like.

“As I said, I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity!” Hal exclaimed, not sure why Bruce wasn’t getting it. “When have I ever done something I didn’t want to, Bruce? Huh? Never. Sure, your kids pissed me off and I did think you were trying to kill me for a bit there, but you know, you’re kinda like a barnacle.”

Bruce looked at him with a mildly disgusted frown.

“You know, you grew on me,” Hal said, pointing finger guns at Bruce.

Bruce looked like he was about to walk away again.

Hal grabbed him by the arm before he could run off and glower at tomatoes or something. “I enjoy your company, Bruce and you know, if all this hadn’t have happened, I probably would’ve tried to get into your bed at some point.”

“That’s not as flattering as you think it is.”

“A lot of people would be flattered by that,” Hal said defensively. “Look at me.”

Bruce rolled his eyes.

“And if Jason hadn’t come by tonight, I would have asked you out anyway,” Hal said. “You’re not so bad to be around and the way you look definitely helps.”

That got him a snort, but Bruce no longer looked like the worlds muscliest kicked puppy. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Hal said. “So anyway, back to my plan. I figure, your kids think you don’t know about the bet and they cut me in so Damian stops sulking and to keep my silence. But you know, because of everything, I double cross them, tell you and then we wait, you know to collect.”

“I hardly need the money-”

“No shit,” Hal said, just resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “But think about it this way, instead of coming in on the backfoot like last time, this time you’ll be in the know and you can get one over on them and won’t make punishing them that much sweeter?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, half turning to face Hal.

“And I get the money,” Hal finished, shrugging. “A win win in my book. You get a date with me, I get money, your kids get their comeuppance, what more could we want?”

Bruce considered him for a moment.

But Hal knew Bruce and he knew he was just dragging it out to be an asshole about it. He raised his eyebrows, knowing that Bruce would never give up a chance to get back at his kids for this whole debacle.

The big bad bat of Gotham was as petty as anyone else when he wanted to be.

“Fine,” Bruce said, looking away.

Hal grinned. “So, how ‘bout it Spooky, you wanna go on a date?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys like shitty barnacle joke. Do you know how long I've wanted to use that?
> 
> Also, DC came out with all their trailers and boiiii I am excited. Gotham Knights looks like so much fun (did we all see how fucking HUGE Jason is in the trailer? Look at him in the group shot and compare him to Dick if you don't believe me, my dude is massive) and WW84 looks amazing and so does the new Batman movie.
> 
> I'm iffy on Suicide Squad, only because Boomerang, an Australian, once again, sounds like a pom. I had this problem with Kano and Junkrat. Neither of them sound anything like Australians (pls don't argue with me, because I guarantee you, the accent they're going for for all of these characters, is meant to be from North/Regional Queensland and I'm from regional QLD - they all tryna do the Steve Iriwin/Crocodile Dundee sound), they all just sound like weird british people.
> 
> FFS.
> 
> Did you guys know Junkrat's supposed to be Australian???? I've played OW on and off since 2016 and I always thought he was a fucking Brit. I only figured it out a few weeks ago when he said 'someone better get a firey because I'm on fire' or whatever. For reference, firey is what we call firefighters.
> 
> If you don't believe me, look up a clip of Junkrat saying path and then an Australian saying it. He says it like a British person would, whereas we use the more American pronunciation. Blizz, just change the line to say 'get outta the road!' cause that's way more Aussie.
> 
> WAAAAAAAAAAAH.
> 
> JUST HIRE AN AUSTRALIAN. PLEASE. HOW HARD IS THAT. I'LL FUCKIN DO IT, I'LL VOICE KANO FFS. 
> 
> Please. if you have a character that Aussie or from NZ, just hire someone from that country. 
> 
> Anyway, I can't wait for Gotham Knights. Looks like a blast.


	12. Bruce Wayne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A present for all of my American readers in these stressful times.
> 
> Please enjoy.

“Well, how ‘bout it Spooky, you wanna go on a date?”

Bruce stared at him. “No,” he said simply before he walked away.

“Wha-No?” Hal repeated in confusion. “What do you mean, _no_?!”

“I mean no,” Bruce said giving Hal a droll look as he picked up a loaf of fancy six dollar bread. “Would it help if I said it in Russian?”

“_Would it help if you said it in Russian_-”

“Nyet.”

“Oh ha ha,” Hal said sarcastically, as Bruce examined the bread critically. “We _just_ discussed that I want to date you and you want to date me-”

Bruce put two of the fancy bread loaves in the basket and walked off to look down another aisle.

“-so what’s the hold up here?” Hal demanded. “You, me, a nice steakhouse, and bada bing, bada boom! A date!”

“The hold-up is who’s doing the asking,” Bruce said, looking a little annoyed by Hal’s proclamation. “I don’t intend to be taken out on a date; I intend to take you out on a date.”

Hal had to take a moment. Honestly, he should have expected this level of complete and utter ridiculousness from Bruce.

But still, it surprised him just how ridiculous and petty Bruce actually was.

Because this was _ridiculous_.

Even for Bruce.

“That’s your problem?!” he exploded, throwing up his hands. “The fact that I asked you and not the other way around- that’s why you won’t go on a date with me?”

Bruce looked unimpressed as he put a packet of deli meat into the basket. He shuffled off to the cheese. “You’re making a scene.”

“It’s three am, there’s no one here,” Hal said flippantly. “Bruce, it’s the same damn thing!”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is,” Hal insisted.

“Not it isn’t.”

“Yes it is!” Hal said loudly and drawing a narrow eyed glare from the only other shopper in the mini mart. “Does it really matter who asked?”

“It does because I know for a fact that no one has ever taken the time to take you on a date before,” Bruce said primly. He was holding a block of cheese in one hand and he honestly looked ridiculous in his stupid giant overcoat and black turtleneck.

“Wh- How could you possibly know that?” Hal demanded. “I knew you were a stalker, but that’s going too far, even for you-”

Bruce clicked his tongue at Hal. “Duke told me,” he said primly.

“Duke?” Hal repeated. “That’s the… Wayne Foundation one- the foster kid- Wait, he was actually researching?” Hal asked in disbelief, remembering Duke’s weird questions about first dates and whether Hal liked flowers or not. Come to think of it-

“Yes,” Bruce said dryly, “on occasion my children do actually tell the truth.”

Hal remembered the roses Bruce had been hold when he’d walked in on Hal’s little episode at headquarters. And the cheesecake from Arnies- Hal’s favourite dessert shop.

Which mean that-

“So… so the roses-”

Bruce looked supremely smug as he turned to look at Hal with that weird smile he sometimes did in the papers when a reporter asked him a stupid question.

“And the cake…” Hal mumbled, feeling just a little bit stupid. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly at the realisation that he, Hal Jordan, romance extraordinaire, Casanova in the flesh, had missed Bruce’s rather obvious come on.

Bruce, the smug bastard, just gave Hal a triumphant look.

Hal glowered at the stand of chips next to him. “You don’t get to be smug right now,” he said. “It’s not my fault I thought you were trying to kill me!”

Bruce had the gall to look offended.

“First you accidentally set your kids on me and then you took me on a date in the ass end of Gotham’s crappiest warehouse,” Hal said pointedly. “It’s not exactly the pinnacle of romance, Bruce.”

Bruce glowered right back at Hal. “Dick wasn’t supposed to be there that night,” he said insistently. “And it wasn’t the ass end of Gotham-”

“Bruce, someone had stolen the gargoyle off the roof of the building.”

Bruce stared at him flatly.

Hal stared back. “I mean, not really a romantic setting.”

For some reason, Bruce looked away suddenly, face falling.

Hal raised an eyebrow at the hunch to Bruce’s shoulders-

“You know I tried really hard,” Bruce said suddenly.

There was a beat of silence before Hal realised what Bruce had said.

And the tone.

Hal clamped his mouth shut when he heard the masked hurt in Bruce’s words, once again, having put his whole damn foot in his mouth.

Bruce set the cheese in his basket, a loud silence growing between them. “Maybe my execution was a little lacking, but I did try.”

And now Hal actually was a fucking asshole because he had just made _Bruce Wayne_ sad. “I…

“Is it really so hard for you to believe that I’m actually taking this seriously?” Bruce asked, looking at Hal, brow furrowed in question. “Is it too much to ask that _you_ take it seriously, Hal?”

Hal hadn’t even really thought about Bruce’s reaction to his plan. In his mind, it was a good idea, if only because it killed two birds with one stone.

But now that he knew all of Bruce’s seemingly random visits to Coast City were actually Bruce’s own awkward way of trying to ask Hal out-

It really made his plan seem like he was just using Bruce’s feelings to win a bet.

Bruce sighed and walked away to the pathetic vegetable section.

Hal trailed after him, trying to think of ways to remove his foot from his mouth. “Bruce, I didn’t mean to not take it seriously,” he started.

Bruce looked at him.

Hal sighed heavily. “God, you- I’m really not allowed to be mad at you, am I?” he muttered. “I… genuinely didn’t mean to not take it seriously, but it’s not that big of a deal- We can just go on the date, win the bet and then take your kids down a notch-”

Bruce shook his head and looked away, chest rising with a quiet sigh.

“It’s not that I’m making a joke,” Hal said, but he was beginning to think that maybe this wasn’t the right thing to be saying.

Bruce said nothing, picking out a few tomatoes.

Suddenly, Hal remembered, very vividly, his parents having an argument in the sitting room. How his dad had stopped trying to explain his reasoning, taken a deep breath and asked his mother if it was that important to her.

Hal jabbed a wilted head of lettuce, sighed, and then resigned himself to acting like his father, even though he definitely was _not that old_.

“Is it important to you?” Hal asked finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

Bruce set the tomatoes in the basket and looked at Hal expectantly.

Hal knew enough of Bruce’s facial expressions to know that, that was a yes. For some goddamn reason, it was so important for Bruce to be the one asking Hal on a date. “I didn’t- I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realise I was being an ass.”

For a long few moments, Bruce didn’t say anything.

The pause was long enough that Hal wondered if he had really hurt Bruce’s feelings.

Finally though, Bruce sighed. “Well it is partially my fault,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Hal said in shock, leaning forward, “did you just say that it was your fault? Did I mishear? Is the sky fall-Ow!” Hal laughed, rubbing his side where Bruce had elbowed him.

Bruce walked away, nose in the air.

“You need to warn me next time,” Hal said, as he followed Bruce up to the counter. “I’ll have my phone out to record you- that way I’ll be able to show it to the others at our next meeting.”

His words earned him a dry, unimpressed blink.

Hal saw Bruce’s signature ‘I’m trying not to smile’ mouth twitch.

Bruce set his basket on the conveyor belt and unpacking it, turning each item around so the barcode was neatly displayed.

The cashier popped her gum at them in greeting, already scanning Bruce’s items and bagging them up. She was staring off into the distance with a thousand yard stare, an air pod in one ear.

Hal swiped a packet of chips off the stand and placed it in Bruce’s pile of food.

Bruce looked supremely judgemental.

“So…” Hal said, breaking the quiet that had fallen between them.

The judgey look on Bruce’s face disappeared as he cocked his head expectantly.

“… Are you going to ask?” Hal asked.

“Ask you what?” Bruce asked innocently as the cashier handed rattled off his total. He tapped his phone against the reader with a beep, not looking away from Hal. “You said my last attempt wasn’t romantic enough, so why would I ask you here- where it’s not romantic?”

The cashier’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hair and she coughed a few times, obviously trying not to let on that she was laughing.

Hal stared at Bruce as realisation dawned on him. “Wh-”

And then Bruce swept out of the mini-mart, bag in hand.

“Bu-” Hal had to scramble to catch up to Bruce, snatching his chips off the conveyor belt. “Bruce, that wasn’t a-”.

The door swung shut behind Bruce and nearly smacked him in the nose and Hal struggled with it for a moment.

“Bruce, that wasn’t a challenge! Hey!”

* * *

“Hey Spooky,” Hal said with a grin, leaning his chin on Bruce’s shoulder. “You got a question you want to ask me?”

“No,” Bruce said, before he walked away.

Hal stumbled forward, nearly tripping. He caught just a glimpse of a smile on Bruce’s face. “Asshole,” he muttered. “You did that on purpose.”

* * *

“Hey Spooky-”

“No.”

“Aw c’mon!”

* * *

Hal wondered if he could will laser beams into his eyes. Theoretically, he could will anything into being, so it was probably possible.

But then, what would that do to his eyes?

Despite Hal’s staring, Bruce was ignoring him, tapping away on the computer keyboard. He was working on the fancy, schmancy satellite the UN wanted the Justice League to use as their new headquarters.

Hal had made a Skynet joke that had gone over everyone’s head.

Hal narrowed his eyes at the back of Bruce’s head.

Bruce knew he was there, but he kept typing anyway, pretending Hal wasn’t in the room.

Hal sighed.

Bruce ignored him.

Hal sighed louder, glaring at Bruce’s back.

Silence.

With a huff, Hal kicked his feet up onto the desk, ‘accidentally’ kicking Bruce’s stupid tablet.

Bruce grabbed his ankle and turned just enough to glare at Hal.

Hal glared back. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he accused angrily. It had been two weeks since he and Bruce had hatched their plan to get back at the kids. Two weeks Bruce had kept Hal waiting and Hal was getting just a little bit impatient.

Bruce’s lips twitched. “A little,” he admitted loftily. “You were oblivious for months. I think I’m owed some payback.”

“And they say I’m petty,” Hal grumbled. “C’mon Bruce, what’s the hold up here? We’re on the clock to get this money from your horde of kids. Just ask me- It’s not as if it could be any less romantic than your first attempt at a first date.”

That earned him a glower.

Hal rolled his eyes at the pointed expression. “They stole the gargoyle. Who steals a gargoyle?” he asked in response to the offended air Bruce was giving off.

Bruce’s glare deepened and Hal just knew that he had reset whatever weird little clock he had in his head, for when to ask Hal out.

The Ring rolled it’s metaphorical eyes at Hal, very obviously unimpressed with his attempt at convincing Bruce to ask him out.

Hal ignored it, folding his arms in irritation as Bruce went back to ignoring him.

* * *

“Hal!”

Hal grumbled as Tom’s voice cut through the pleasant dream about Diana beating Luthor at an arm wrestle.

“Hal!”

Hal groaned and opened his eyes in annoyance. The nose of his Raptor was warm from the afternoon sun and the warm metal had done wonders for working out the knots in all of his back.

There was a clang from below Hal and then Tom’s head popped up right next to Hal. His childhood best friend was beaming, cheeks red and eyes shining. “I finally found you- You have to come to the lobby right now!”

Yawning, Hal rolled onto his side. “C’mon buddy, I’m sleeping-”

“No!” Tom said excitedly, tugging on Hal’s arm. “You have to come see! It’s amazing!” he insisted, damn near pulling Hal right off the nose of the plane. “Carol sent me.”

Hal sat up at the mention of Carol’s name, forcing his eyes open properly. He thought hard, or tried to, trying to remember if he had forgotten to do something. He was pretty sure he’d done all of his tasks for the day but-

“Hal, come on!” Tom said, pulling on his flightsuit insistently.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” Hal said blearily, clambering down the ladder. “Did she say what it was about? We did all our test runs today, plane was fine-”

“It’s not about the planes!” Tom said, trotting back towards the hangar doors. He was waving his hands at Hal excitedly and when Hal caught up with him, he latched onto his arm and practically dragged Hal across the tarmac. “I thought you bought them for Carol at first, but them we saw the name on the card and the delivery guy was confirmed-”

“Delivery guy?” Hal asked in bewilderment as Tom dragged him into the main building and then down the hall to the breakroom.

Half of the damn airbase seemed to be inside, including some of the other fliers. Harris gave Hal a conspiratorial grin and Maya waggled her eyebrows at him.

Hal was trying to think of a reason why everyone was inside, when Tom shoved him to the front of the crowd and Hal’s eyes fell on the frankly absurd amount of roses sitting on the breakroom tables and chairs.

“What in the…” Hal said in disbelief, staring at the flowers in confusion. The table had practically disappeared under the literal rose bushes that had somehow appeared on it.

Hal counted at least four terrifyingly large bouquets of roses in various colours of pink, purple, and yellow.

But honestly, he wasn’t really sure where one bouquet started and the next ended.

Carol popped up from somewhere in the middle of all the roses, cheeks pink and an uncharacteristically girlish smile on her face. “Hal! Look at these flowers- aren’t they beautiful?”

“Why are there so many?” Hal asked helplessly. “Is it someone’s birthday?”

For some reason, that made everyone laugh and Harris slapped Hal on the back, hard enough to make him stumble. “Always the airhead, aren’t you, Jordan?” the older man boomed.

Hal scowled. “I’m not an airhead-”

“Oh stop bullying him,” Carol said good naturedly. “This came with them,” she said to Hal, biting her bottom lip as she held out a fancy white envelope with Hal’s name written on it in eerily familiar penmanship.

Hal stared at the envelope and then looked up at the roses. There was an uncomfortable heat on his face as he realised that this must all be from Bruce.

Something poked him in the hand he looked down to see Carol was pushing the envelope into his hand. She grinned at him. “Never thought I’d see the day when Hal Jordan blushed.”

“He’s blushing?!” Tom shrieked excitedly.

“I am not!” Hal insisted, looking away in annoyance. As if mocking him, his face got even warmer.

“Open it!” Maya hooted from somewhere.

Carol was clapping her hands silently, in the way she did when she was really excited. Tom was practically bouncing off the walls.

Hal ripped open the envelope and pulled out a thick slip of card. It was heavy and embossed on the back with the Wayne Industries logo and had silver rectangle around the edge.

_7pm. _

_Enjoy the cake._

Of course it was the most cryptic thing ever, and Bruce had left it unsigned, but then was par for course for the most dramatic man on the continent.

“Well?!” Carol squealed. “What does it say?”

“Uh- Enjoy the cake?” Hal said helplessly, wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean. Were the roses made out of cake? Was it like those videos Ollie kept sending him on Instagram-

The buzzer for the front door went off and they all looked around.

One of the administration ladies pressed the intercom. “Hello? How can I help today?” she asked pleasantly.

“I have a delivery from Arnie’s Cake Shop for a Hal Jordan?” came back through a moment later.

Carol whipped around, eyes wide as she stared at Hal. “Cheesecake,” she mouthed before she was off like a shot, clicking down the hallway to the front door.

“So,” Harris said, sidling up beside Hal as the rest of the gathered staff started talking among themselves and peering at the flowers curiously. “Who is she? Must have some money to buy you all these nice things.”

“Bruce Wayne,” Hal said dumbly, turning the card over to show Harris the stupid embossing.

Harris looked at him in surprise, mouth opening a little.

Hal wondered if his friend and mentor was going to say something Hal wasn’t going to like. Hal had never been shy about who he had slept with, but he and Harris had never really talked about it before. Harris had always been pretty liberal, but he was older and-

“Now, Hal,” Harris said, slinging an arm around Hal’s shoulders, “you listen to me, okay? With a man like Bruce Wayne, you can’t just be going around in your short pants and t-shirts- he’s a classy guy, so you need to be classy as well. None of this airhead stuff-”

Hal shoved his old friend off with a scoff. “I’m classy!” he said hotly.

Harris burst out laughing, clapping Hal on the shoulder a few more times. “That you are, airhead,” he said fondly. “Now, tell me, how did you manage to meet a guy like Bruce Wayne?”

“Bruce Wayne?!” someone repeated loudly and then Hal was swarmed by giggling administration staff and curious mechanics.

Harris, the bastard, cackled and left Hal to fend off the excited group.

“How did you two meet?”

“Was it at one of his galas? He always looks so handsome in those tuxedoes of his- you two would just be so handsome together-”

“Have you met his kids yet? They’re all so adorable-”

“Especially his daughter-”

“And that little Timothy! Oh, what a cutie!”

Thankfully though, Hal was saved from having to come up with some excuse for how they had met because Carol came careening back into the breakroom.

Her arms were piled high with the fancy white boxes from Arnie’s. She was using her chin to keep the stack from toppling over. “This must have cost a fortune!” she said as she tottered over to the one empty space on the breakroom countertop. “Look at this, New York, Blueberry-”

Hal watched the chaos, unsure of what was going or what had just happened. No one had ever done something like this for him before.

“Hal, you gotta marry this man!” Maya shouted as she and Tom clattered around in the kitchenette, pulling out plates and cutlery and making an awful racket while they did it. “We can have cheesecake everyday!”

“You’ll get fat,” Tom pointed out.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

There were far too many cheesecakes, one of each flavour and two of Hal’s favourite blueberry.

“Hal, come get the first piece!” Crystal, one of the sweet administration ladies, said, bustling over to bully him over to the table. She was beaming, still wearing her heavy sweater despite the fact it was the height of summer. “Oh, this is just the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

Carol handed Hal a piece of cake on a plate, giving him a secretive little smile. Her eyes were shining, and Hal just knew he was never going to hear the end of this.

No doubt Hal was going to get a phone call from his mother later. And Jim.

And Ollie.

Hal also knew that Bruce had done this on purpose, for Hal’s complaint about being taken on a ‘date’ in the ‘ass end of Gotham’.

Not that he was complaining.

He had to admit, it was a little bit nice that someone had gone to all this effort and expense, just for him.

And Bruce had put on one hell of a show.

Hal could always appreciate a show.

“What’s with all the different colours?” someone asked. “I know red means passion, right?”

Harris pretended to swoon, and Hal rolled his eyes.

Hal smiled as he watched his coworkers argue and coo over the roses, looking up the various meanings of the colours. Bruce had really gone all out, Hal had never seen lavender coloured roses before, or knew that pink and peach were apparently different.

“Yellow roses tipped with red…” Carol was reading out through a mouthful of cheesecake. “…symbolise falling in love-”

Hal winced at the collective shriek that she and the rest of the room let out.

* * *

The flight to Gotham was nice.

Hal didn’t think he’d ever get sick of flying over his home country, seeing the ground fall away below him, the lights zipping past, the heavy darkness when he got to the empty places where there were no houses and no people, just trees and fields for miles and miles.

He wondered if Bruce would ever let Hal take him up on a flight. Hal was the best flier there was, in the cockpit and with the Ring.

Maybe Hal could plan their second date, and he could show Spooky what a real pilot could do.

Hal started his descent as the heavy, yellow light of Gotham came into view, and the brighter, whiter light of Metropolis appeared behind it.

For once though, he wasn’t all that disappointed to come down.

Wayne Manor sat on the outskirts of Gotham, surrounded by rolling hills and dense brush. The nearest house was some ugly modern monstrosity about two miles away.

Hal looped over the manor and landed in the little cluster of trees just down the road from the manor. He doubted anyone had seen him, especially since he had kept the Ring’s glow off and used Kyle’s darker uniform as inspiration for his own for this particular flight.

He let his uniform melt away and brushed himself down quickly, straightening the collar of his jacket. Waving his hand, Hal opened the little pocket dimension where he kept his Lantern and retrieved the box of his mother’s lemon cake that he had stashed there.

He could just hear Ganthet’s lecture about misusing pocket dimensions.

The Ring huffed and puffed in his mind, not at all impressed by the thought of the smurfs.

Hal snorted, juggling the box of cake into the crook of his elbow as he picked his way out of the trees and onto the road. Despite the fact that this place was nowhere near the city or any suburbia, there were still wide sidewalks and dainty little flower bushes.

The walk to the manor was quick, and Hal wasn’t surprised to find the gates sitting open.

In the night time, Wayne Manor looked more and less intimidating than it did in the day. More, because the dark stone almost seemed to blend into sky and shadows. Less because someone, Alfred probably, had seen fit to place warm yellow ground lights in the gardens, lighting up the grounds comfortingly.

The dog training course was still under the sweeping tree on the front lawn.

Alfred’s gardener had obviously been worth the money because the headless animal shrubs were gone, leaving plain bushes behind. And the fancy fountain had been cleaned, because it was sparkling white instead of the creamy grey Hal had seen last time he had been there.

Hal walked up the front doors and poked the doorbell. He heard it chime and waited.

He was just about to press it again when the door opened. But instead of Alfred, it was Bruce standing behind it.

Bruce who was dressed down for once, in a blue button up and tan khakis instead of the turtleneck and black slacks Hal was used to. His sleeves were rolled up and he was holding a checked tea towel in one hand.

“You found your sense of punctuality at the worst time,” Bruce grouched, throwing Hal an almost glare. “You’re early.”

Hal grinned. “I got a tailwind,” he said with a shrug. “I could wait out here on the step until 7?” he made a show of checking a watch he wasn’t wearing.

Bruce scoffed at him, making a big show of begrudgingly stepping back to allow Hal inside. He frowned at the box in Hal’s hands. “You didn’t need to bring anything,” he said.

“You’ve never met my mother,” Hal said, handing the box to Bruce. “If I showed up empty handed her honour would have been tainted for the rest of time.”

Bruce’s eyes dropped to the box, mouth curling into a barely there smile. “Far be it for me to taint your mother’s honour, then,” he said wryly. “Come through, I’m nearly finished with dinner.”

Hal followed Bruce through the plush, grand hallways of the manor. The manor was always a bit of a head trip for Hal, because it was simultaneously the most Bruce Wayne thing ever and also completely against what you might expect from someone as austere as Bruce.

For a man who consistently used and developed the most cutting edge technology, he did sure like velvet and Victorian era decorations.

Hal supposed it did fit.

Velvet was pretty dramatic.

“So I take it the kidliwinks are holding down the fort in gloomy Gotham,” Hal said as Bruce led him into the giant, modern kitchen at the back of the manor. One of the four ovens was on and there was a pan on the fancy cooktop. On the bench next to it, a board with two generous, beautifully marbled steaks.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what Bruce had planned for their dinner.

Hal’s stomach growled.

Bruce gave him an amused glance. “The Sirens are taking over tonight,” he said. “The rest are currently at a family dinner Alfred suggested.”

“Suggested,” Hal said with a nod and smile, remembering Alfred’s matter of fact assertion that the Batkids would not dare harass Hal again.

“Suggested,” Bruce agreed. He gestured at the breakfast stools sitting neatly in front of the marble island counter. “Please, sit. I’m nearly finished.”

While Bruce went back to seasoning the steaks and heating up the pan, Hal shrugged off his jacket and slung it over the back of the one of the breakfast stools. Rolling up his sleeves, he heard a rattle and looked up to see Bruce pouring pink salt into one of those fancy grinding bowls.

He watched Bruce for a moment, admiring the play of muscle in Bruce’s forearms as he ground up the salt.

Bruce cleared his throat pointedly.

Hal looked up and saw Bruce staring at him dryly. He grinned at Bruce, unashamed at being caught staring. Bruce was a handsome man and Hal was nothing if not visual. “Colours other than black look good on you, Spooky,” he said.

A roll of the eyes and one dramatic harrumph later, and Bruce was back to grinding away at the salt in his little stone bowl.

“Anything I can do to help?” Hal asked, walking around the island counter to lean on the countertop next to Bruce. “I can’t cook, but I can follow instructions.”

Bruce snorted. “You, follow instructions?” he scoffed, turning the steaks over, and beginning to sprinkle his salt and pepper mixture over them.

“Always.”

Another snort and Bruce dropped a dollop of butter into the cast iron pan sitting on the cooktop. It was clearly a very well loved pan, from the way the handle had been worn smooth. “So it’s just mine you ignore then,” he said.

“Yeah.”

Bruce shook his head, lips curled up at the corners in a barely there smile. “Tell me about your day,” he said after a pause.

Hal raised an eyebrow, not expecting that. He had half been expecting Bruce to start barking orders about potato souffles or diamond encrusted lobster or something. “Well… We had some tests to run for NASA on their fancy new G-force pants. Damn things felt like they were about to crush my balls, but I’ll be damned if they didn’t work.”

The steaks sizzled as Bruce carefully laid them in the pan.

“Did some routine maintenance of the planes with Tom- He’s thinking about buying a cat, well he was until I reminded him that’s he very allergic to cats,” Hal said, remembering his best friend’s crestfallen face. “Do they have medicine for that now?”

“They do,” Bruce murmured, tending to the steaks carefully. There were a few stalks of some twiggy looking herbs in the pan as well and the whole thing was letting off a delicious smell of cooking meat and fresh herbs. “Does Ferris have a company insurance plan? I’m sure Wayne Enterprises has a generic antihistamine that should be relatively cheap.”

“We do, but I don’t think cat allergy is something they cover,” Hal said, rubbing his chin. “The Board’s filled with these old white guys and I swear, they keep forcing Carol to cut benefits because of profit margins or whatever- sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”

“It probably is,” Bruce said with a frown. “Trust me, I work with old white guys just like that and that’s about all they can say. Well that and asking about yearly bonuses.”

“What happens when you’re an old white guy- will that be all you say?” Hal asked.

“Kill me if it ever gets to that point,” Bruce said darkly, in a rare showing of his characteristic deadpan humour.

“Sure. And I’ll go to jail for murdering America’s favourite billionaire.”

“I have good lawyers, I’m sure they could get you a good deal.”

Hal laughed at that, imagining the headlines.

Bruce chuckled quietly, turning the steaks over, and letting another cloud of fragrant herbs and cooking meat billow up. The underside of the steak was perfectly browned, the fat practically melted away.

Hal’s mouth watered. “And well, after that I had a nap on my plane in the sun- good alternative for a massage you know- gets the knots right out.”

“I’ll have to try it.”

“And then Tom woke me up to show me the strangest thing,” Hal said, tilting his head to the side to stare at Bruce’s face. “All of these roses, expensive ones too, with their own little water baggies on each stem and everything, right in the middle of our breakroom!”

“How strange indeed,” Bruce murmured.

“And that’s not all, turns out one guy paid for the whole thing and he bought like, sixteen of my favourite cheesecakes,” Hal said, wondering how long he could string this out before Bruce kicked him out or got pouty.

“He must be a very wealthy man,” Bruce said, looking at Hal with an amused look on his face.

Hal clicked his tongue. “You know I also learned something today,”

“Did you.”

“I did- did you know that yellow roses tipped with red can symbolise falling in love?” Hal asked rhetorically, well aware that anal retentive Bruce, with his dedication to detail, would have already known that out and would have picked it for that reason.

Bruce looked at him. “Really,” he said, unconvincingly.

“Yeah,” Hal murmured, leaning one elbow on the counter top.

“He must be a romantic,” Bruce said quietly, though that didn’t make it any less pointed.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Hal said.

“Really?” Bruce asked, putting on a mildly confused expression. “Roses, cake… I’d say he’s plenty romantic.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you,” Hal said. Somewhere along the way, they had migrated closer to each other and Hal could smell Bruce’s cologne, a faint hint of sandalwood.

“I’m open to ideas about other things you might find romantic,” Bruce murmured.

“I never remember mentioning that this guy was you.”

“Oh, I must have missed that,” Bruce said, eyes sliding away from Hal’s for a moment and then back up. They were intensely blue, flecked with grey and green, and his pupils were blown wide.

The kitchen was quiet for a beat, nothing but the sizzling of the steak in the pan.

Bruce expression shifted-

“Is this the part where we make out and everything burns, but we don’t care because we’re trying to find your bedroom because we’re absolutely overtaken with lust?” Hal whispered, barely able to contain his laughter.

-and then soured into a pout.

Hal burst out laughing as Bruce shoved his face away.

“You just had to open your mouth and ruin it,” Bruce grumbled, bullying Hal away from the cook top, and tending to his precious steak.

Hal laughed harder, holding onto the counter. “And here I thought you liked my mouth,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Bruce’s expression was long suffering, but Hal saw the smile he was hiding. “Go and check the oven. I need to finish the potatoes in the pan while the steaks rest,” he grouched.

Hal snickered as he raised his hands in surrender and then went to collect Bruce’s potatoes. He could feel Bruce’s glare roasting the back of his head as he retrieved the tray with a construct.

Bruce was setting the steaks on a wooden cutting board to rest when Hal turned around.

Hal floated the tray over to sit on the rack Bruce had helpfully set out. “Where’d you learn to cook?” he asked. “With all your money, you can and do pay for someone to do it all for you.”

The blob of butter Bruce dropped into the pan sizzled and began to melt. “Do you really think Alfred would let me get to adulthood without learning to cook at least somewhat competently?”

“I mean… Ollie burnt rice once,” Hal said, remembering how he and Dinah had had to rush in to put the rice cooker out. “Figure, you two run in the same sort of circles.”

“Oliver also thinks that alcohol is a food group,” Bruce said, looking heavily offended.

Hal swiped one of the golden, crispy potatoes out of the tray, mouth watering at the thought of biting into it.

As soon as he lifted it however, he got a sharp, swift smack on the back of the hand.

“Ow!” he yelped, dropping the pilfered potato, and looking up at Bruce in shock.

Bruce stared at him, unimpressed, tongs raised. “Those go with the steak,” he said.

“I’m hungry!”

“I don’t care,” Bruce responded easily, poking Hal’s hand away with the tongs and carefully dropping the potatoes into the pan, one at a time. “I didn’t go to all this effort for you to eat out of the pan at the counter.”

Rubbing his hand, Hal pouted at Bruce.

Bruce was flipping the potatoes over carefully, the crispy sides somehow crispening up even more. “The asparagus is in the oven as well,” he said, studiously ignoring Hal. “Can you serve it up, please? The plates are all warming in the tray underneath the oven.”

Grumbling about his smarting hand, Hal trotted off to go and do what Bruce asked.

* * *

Bruce ended up chasing Hal away from eating the asparagus too before finally deeming their dinner complete.

They ended up on the back patio, though in the night time it was far more impressive. Someone, again probably Alfred, had placed the lights artfully around the garden and the tree overhanging the patio roof had lights strung up through the branches.

The glass roof of the patio cast pretty reflections over the table, which had been switched out for a smaller set, with only two chairs instead of the eight Hal remembered. It also had another vase of roses in a crystal vase.

There were two placemats set out, shockingly simple and modern for a guy who lived in a place that had a literal stone tower.

Bruce arranged the dishes of food in between the two place settings, swatting Hal away from the potatoes again. “Like a vulture,” he muttered, as he shooed Hal’s hand away with the tongs.

Hal huffed at Bruce’s ridiculousness and set down the ice water pitcher Bruce had asked him to bring. “You’ve been teasing me with those potatoes for like twenty minutes, Spooky,” he complained good naturedly.

“Patience is a virtue,” Bruce said snootily. “Some things take time.”

Hal took his seat opposite Bruce, admiring the play of light across Bruce’s face. It was no secret that Hal found Bruce attractive, but here, relaxed and without the weight of the Bat on his shoulders, he looked far younger than he usually did. “Why do I feel like that was directed at me?” he asked.

Bruce sat down, eyes turned brilliant blue by the light of the garden lamps. “Because it was.”

“You’re never going to let me forget it, are you?” Hal asked with a sigh, accepting the tongs for the potatoes that Bruce offered him.

“You were oblivious for four months,” Bruce said loftily, serving himself some asparagus. “You, who bragged about who charming and good you were at romancing people.”

Huffing, Hal piled the potatoes high on his plate. “Next time,” he joked,” just do the kiss in the middle of a firefight. At least then we can get a good picture.”

That got a laugh out of Bruce. “The media would have a field day.”

“I mean, they think we’re all being scandalous anyway,” Hal said with a shrug, remembering the raunchy hit piece some rag had put out about them all being engaged in some satanic orgy. “Why not give them what they want?”

“This is why I come up with the plans,” Bruce muttered.

Hal would have answered Bruce, but he had just taken his first bite of the steak Bruce had cooked and he was too distracted by how delicious it was.

It was cooked to perfection, mid rare and so tender it practically melted in his mouth.

“Holy shit,” he said as he swallowed. “You cook me more meals like this and I’ll go as many dates with you as you want.”

“Thank god our enemies don’t know half the Justice League can be won over with their stomachs,” Bruce muttered, though there was a distinctly pleased air around him as he cut into his own steak.

After that, conversation came easy.

Hal had always loved going out to eat or over to his friends for a dinner party. There was just something he really enjoyed about having a conversation over a plate of food, not having to rush, just being able to eat and talk and enjoy each other’s company.

And Bruce, despite his often reserved nature, was a good conversationalist.

He asked Hal about his family and Helen, about Carol and Tom and Ferris. He asked Hal about how Kyle was doing, if he needed help finding a job, about John and Guy, and how Jessica’s therapy was working out.

He told Hal about his kids and how Tim, despite his short stature, was Captain of the Lacrosse team at Gotham Academy. He talked about Dick’s work in Bludhaven, about how Cassandra was taking lessons at the Gotham City Drama Center, about Stephanie getting early acceptance into the Thomas Wayne Medical School.

Duke was excelling at the computer science academy Bruce had sent him to, and Jason had finally stopped graffitiing ‘Fuck Batman’ all over Gotham. And Damian was volunteering at the animal shelter with his friend Colin, looking after the elder cats and dogs there.

Hal had never been one for kids.

He loved them, but he never wanted any for himself. That would require giving up everything dangerous, giving up being a Lantern and Hal was too selfish for that.

But it was very obvious to see that Bruce loved his kids a whole lot.

And Hal had to admit.

It was attractive.

Bruce had always been physically attractive, Hal had know that since the time Bruce had body slammed into a roof way back when. But it was pretty obvious that most of Bruce Wayne’s charm came from his personality.

Hal told Bruce about space, about all of the weird and wonderful things he had seen. The people and aliens he had met and how it had expanded his worldview by force.

And Bruce seemed genuinely interested when Hal started talking about his thoughts for a new jet design. It was… refreshing, because few people outside of Hal’s closest friends really listened when he got going about aerodynamics and wind resistance.

They ended up sitting outside talking long after they had both finished eating, but it was comfortable and natural.

Eventually, when the night truly fell and Hal’s phone said it was nearing ten pm, they retreated back inside to clean up.

It felt very domestic as they loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the counters and Hal thought he would have hated it. After all, it had been a night like that had triggered his and Carol’s break-up.

But maybe it was just because he was older, but Hal didn’t mind so much.

It was comfortable doing these things with Bruce.

“I’d like to try your mother’s lemon cake,” Bruce said with a smile.

“That’s why I bought it,” Hal said, returning the smile. He knew Bruce would love his mother’s lemon cake- everyone did. It was how his parents had gotten together in the first place. “You’ll have to let me know how you like it- she’ll be tickled if Bruce Wayne likes her cooking.”

They ended up eating the entire box at the island counter, Hal sitting on top of it while Bruce sat in one of the breakfast stools.

“Alfred will want the recipe,” Bruce said, almost going cross eyed as he stared at the last bite of his slice.

Hal almost couldn’t keep his eyes off Bruce. The difference between this Bruce and the Bruce that stalked around HQ was night and day.

In the light of the kitchen, hair mussed out of that typical slicked back look and eyes crinkled with a smile-

Bruce raised an eyebrow, a barely there smile curling one side of his lips and Hal realised he had been caught staring.

“Sorry what?” he asked.

Bruce snorted quietly and shook his head. The kitchen fell into a companionable silence and Hal finished the last of his cake, licking the crumbs from his fingers. It was just as decadent and sweet and delicious as he remembered.

Sitting in Bruce’s kitchen like this, it reminded him of his family doing the same thing on countless summer afternoons.

“I’d like to show you something,” Bruce said suddenly, slipping off his stool and holding a hand out to Hal.

That hadn’t been what Hal had been expecting. He hopped off the counter obligingly and after a brief moment of thought, took Bruce’s hand. “It’s not weird is it? Like, you don’t have another… cave do you?” he asked teasingly.

Bruce’s hand was warm and rough with callouses. “Yes, I’m going to show you my sex dungeon,” he said, deadpan.

“Oh good,” Hal said as Bruce led him out of the kitchen. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Bruce took Hal past the grand staircase and down another plush hallway. Soon enough they came to a set of double doors that Bruce pushed open.

Hal knew Bruce was rich, but he hadn’t realised Bruce was ‘have a library in your own house rich’.

The lights flicked on automatically, and Hal could see that this wasn’t just some dusty room with a few bookshelves. It was a full blown library, complete with rows of bookshelves and a matinee level with reading nooks tucked into bay windows.

Bruce led Hal past the rows of shelves and past an area that was dedicated to beanbags and sofas. Hal could even see desks set up, like they would be for someone trying to study.

Soon though, Bruce led Hal into a little alcove. There were a few more bookshelves here, but they were shoved up against the wall to make room for a big slab of a table in the center of the room.

Bruce didn’t let go of his hand, pulling Hal around to one end of the table. There was a tablet mounted there, lighting up as Bruce tapped on it.

“Wow,” Hal said, spreading his free hand wide to encompass the table, “a table. Bruce, it’s amazing. I’ve never seen such a magnificent invention before-”

“You’re very funny,” Bruce said dryly.

“I do try.”

“Try harder then,” Bruce said, but it was distracted as he tapped on the tablet screen.

Hal forgot what he was going to say because the table lit up suddenly, a projection of a city springing up across the table. The buildings built themselves up, tiny little recreations of skyscrapers and apartment towers, and further out, towards the edges of the table, suburban sprawl.

It was only when the monorail wound its way into existence, that Hal realised he was looking at a recreation of Gotham.

“This a new piece of tech WE is working on?”

“Partially,” Bruce said. “But that’s not what I wanted to show you.”

Hal got his answer as to what Bruce was trying to show him when the projection shimmered and started to change.

“Gotham has been my families home for generations,” Bruce said. “We profited off the land and the people who lived here and we still do- to the point where my family has more money than a hundred generations could ever spend.”

Hal watched as the city began to build itself up. New skyscrapers built themselves up, and old buildings got make overs. Areas of the city that were rundown started to rebuild and expand, gaining what looked like new parks and schools and apartment blocks.

“I created Batman to protect the city,” Bruce murmured. “But it’s not enough. The city doesn’t just have more crime and crime lords, it has unprecedented levels of corruption at every level of the system. After my parent’s death, it went unchecked-” he pointed at the famous Wayne monorail.

Hal remembered that it had been in a state of disrepair for a long time, since he was in his teens. It had never gotten fixed for the same reason Coast City’s busses were still late- politicians tying things up in red tape until they got what they wanted.

“Batman can protect the city in it’s current form,” Bruce murmured. “But Bruce Wayne can change it to be something better.”

“Ambitious,” Hal said quietly, watching as the city glittered in it’s new form, little busses zooming around and an expanded monorail winding its way between the buildings. There were even tiny people in the new parks that the projection had created.

“It is,” Bruce said. “But I have the means and the influence to do it.”

Hal looked over the projection. “You’re going to pay for all this yourself?”

“Not all of it,” Bruce admitted. “These are going to be public works,” he said, pointing to a few building that were clearly supposed to be school campuses. “They need to be for them to be accessible to everyone, regardless of socio-economic status.”

Hal glanced at Bruce, watching as he explained how the plan would unfold.

Bruce would help with funding and campaigning for grassroots politicians that would replace the old, corrupt ones. And when the numerous Wayne charities and grants would fill in the gaps where the corruption had gutted public funding.

It was very clear Bruce had spent a long time putting this together. And it was even clearer just how passionate he was about it- his eyes were bright and animated as he pointed out how the new parks would be built to help cool the city down in the summer time.

He was still holding Hal’s hand.

It was nice to watch Bruce really get into his little table and plan. Because he was so often a gruff, standoffish guy.

“It’s for them,” Bruce said finally, taking half a step backwards.

“Who?” Hal asked.

Bruce pointed at a little pier, where a ferris wheel was spinning lazily. “Dick’s parents died here when their circus couldn’t pay the local gang on time,” he said. And then he pointed at a small alleyway. “And this is where my parents were killed, and I found Jason.”

Hal looked at the city again. He had only visited Gotham a few times, but it had been hard to forget that Gotham wasn’t like other American cities- people died and went missing in Gotham and that was just Tuesday.

“Here is where Tim lost his father and stepmother,” Bruce continued, brow furrowing. “Here, where Stephanie’s father was allowed to make bond time and time again despite his repeated domestic violence charges. Here, where Duke’s parents were poisoned by the Joker. Here, where Barbara was shot.”

The library was quiet, Gotham a mess of yellow lights and skyscrapers out the large windows.

“All this,” Bruce said, gesturing at the table, “it’s so there are no more Jason’s and Stephanie’s, no more children who lose their parents to drugs and get lost in a corrupt system. No more Duke’s, no more Barbara’s. No more deaths because of failure to pay a ‘protection racket’.”

“Isn’t that what Batman is for?”

“Maybe,” Bruce said. “But maybe the bad guy with the gun will never pick it up because he won’t need to take any job he can to pay for food or bills.”

It wasn’t something Hal had considered.

Silence fell between them, the projection shimmering and playing out on the table. Little families went to night markets and to the parks. Busloads of kids were dropped off at the tiny schools and people went to work in the big skyscrapers in the city center.

“Hey Bruce,” Hal said quietly.

Bruce glanced at him.

Hal closed the distance between them.

Bruce tasted like the remnants of lemon cake.

At first, the kiss was a little awkward, if only because they were the same height and they bumped noses.

And it started out as just a kiss, but Bruce tilted his head and so did Hal and somewhere along the way, they ended up wrapped up in each other.

Bruce was the first to pull away, but he didn’t go far. “That wasn’t how that was supposed to go.”

Hal opened his mouth and then just gave up, because of course Bruce had planned out how their first kiss was supposed to go. “I’m guessing it was supposed to go more in the direction of happening with less clothes and in a bedroom?” he said lightly.

Bruce looked affronted at the suggestion, nose wrinkling. “You might put out on the first date, Jordan, but I don’t.”

Hal narrowed his eyes at Bruce in mock suspicion. “What are you implying?” he asked.

Bruce opened his mouth and then pulled back with a grunt. He looked down with a frown and slipped his phone out of his pocket.

Hal raised an eyebrow.

Bruce’s expression shuttered and his shoulders hunched in, just a fraction.

Hal glanced out the window of the library, and sure enough, shining brightly against the inky backdrop of the sky, there was the Bat symbol.

Bruce sighed. “It’s an emergency, the Joker- Dick wouldn’t have called otherwise,” he said, and while there was no apology in his voice, there was something that sounded a lot like frustration. “You’re welcome to stay in the manor-”

“You know,” Hal interrupted, slinging his arms around Bruce’s shoulders, “I really did mean what I said back at Diana’s.”

Bruce stared at him and Hal would never get sick of being able to make the great Bruce Wayne look lost.

“So hot watching you punch criminals,” Hal said with a grin.

Bruce opened his mouth and then sighed, shaking his head. “Just suit up,” he grumbled, neck pink.

Hal saw the smile anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stayed up late to finish this, but I think we could all do with some fluff right now.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Where’s that meme about being exclusively attracted to morons cause that’s Bruce rn
> 
> Hal is the epitome of BDE
> 
> Big disaster energy

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Here comes the Breakdown](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23546005) by [Just-kent-ing-around (FallenBleedingAngel)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenBleedingAngel/pseuds/Just-kent-ing-around)


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